Bite
by ZuzuPetalsInkBlot
Summary: Michael remains in the Mirror!Universe. Will she find her freedom or lose herself along the way?
1. Chapter 1

Bite

By Zuzu Petal

AN: Send help. I've gone off the deep end.

Gabriel hated and loved her all at once. She had stayed, she was his. She had said only in mind but... well, there were ways around the other thing.

She was hurt, a snarl at her lips when they cuff her. For her protection of course, but she scoffed at the empty sentiment. She was lead away though she struggled. He didn't want her to see what he was about to do. Or maybe it would've been better for him to let her watch him sever Pippa's head from her neck.

No... he chose to protect her from that. That's all he had ever done since he fallen into that hellscape. Her universe could never be his. But perhaps together his could become theirs, again.

When he comes to her she's sitting on the edge of the bed, her elbows on her knees. Her breastplate is gone, the phaser holster in a pile near the wall. She threw it in anger, he was sure of it.

He's nervous, but he can see her better in this light. In her universe the light had been so blinding until he saw her again. It had left him feeling full and empty.

Full that he saw her again, empty that she wasn't his.

"Is it done?" She asks, her voice even and calm, staring straight ahead.

"Done." He answers, lowly.

Michael sighs and lowers her head, shaking it.

"You didn't have to do this." She breathes. He laughs spitefully, but to her he's sure he sounds like some evil genius. It wasn't genius, it was destiny.

"Letting her live would have only bred more death. And she had it comin' anyway."

He takes careful steps towards her, but keeps a distance. She's like a tiger in a cage. She doesn't have to look at him to know where he is.

"I can't live here." She tells him.

"You'll adjust." He promises. "You won't be alone."

Michael finally looks at him, rises but doesn't come to him. Not like he wished she would.

"Am I your prisoner?" She asks him.

"That's a difficult question to answer. Are you going to try and escape?"

"What do you think?"

Gabriel bites the inside of his cheek, another step. She's holding her ground. It's not like when they first met. He had tested the waters then, she had retreated. But not now. Good, that's how his old Michael had been.

"I'm not your lover." She tells him firmly.

"No. You're not. You're different." He assures her, wishing he could touch her. Did she know how painful it had been for him to love her so madly and let her love someone else? So many times he had wanted to put a stop it, so many times he could have. But he didn't.

"If you love me let me go." She says and he shakes his head.

"I already did once and I lost more than you can imagine."

Michael goes to the viewing window, putting distance between them, refusing to look at him.

"You don't believe it's possible now, Michael, but in time you could-"

"What?" She snaps her head in his direction, her anger finally boiling over. " _Love_ you?" She laughs and it hurts. "I could _never_ love you. You abused my trust, you abused your position. You could've come to me for help, you could've told me-"

"And you think your precious Starfleet wouldn't have exploited their chance at discovering a new universe? Bringing their war into _my_ backyard?" He raises his voice equally, challenging her.

"That's not who we are. You know that's not who _I_ am." She parries. His upper lip curls into snarl and he comes towards her with purposeful steps. She readies herself for a fight when he stops feet from her. He doesn't touch her, he doesn't attack her. He simply makes his presence known.

"I know who you are, Michael," he tells her and she's reminded of their first meeting. "But them? They're fools. They think they can hold entire worlds together through unity and good faith. But I've seen good faith turn to ash before my very eyes. Excuse me if I don't hold the same idealism your Federation does."

Michael sighs deeply.

"And I think I know you, Lorca," she spits bitterly, not using his rank or even his first name. "And I know something from my universe rubbed off on you. Why else would you have allowed me to spare the rebels lives?"

Something inside Gabriel fractures and he reaches out to grab her arm, yanking her towards him. She tries to fight him off but he stronger, pressing her against the bulkhead.

"I was playing a part," he snarls in her face and she tries to turn away from him but he won't let her. "I was being your good hearted, righteous Captain Lorca for you. You think I care about a few thousand rebels gettin' blown outta the sky?"

Michael finally faces him.

"Yes." She answers strongly. He shoves her away from himself and goes to the door, pausing.

"You'll be confined to quarters until further notice. Landry will see to your needs, if you have any."

He leaves her and she rages inside of herself. Discovery is a universe away, the emperor dead.

Duplicate faces haunt her. And she's trapped with a man she isn't sure is entirely mad, but who is definitely reaching a breaking point. She thinks she's gotten through to him somehow. That maybe, just maybe, he does care. That something from her universe has changed him.

Maybe... this version of herself has changed him.


	2. II

It's days before he comes to her again. When he does he's dressed down, black pants and a long sleeve black shirt. Phaser at his hip. The _Charon_ has been secured, any followers left of the emperor are dead and dust. Floating in space or incinerated in a phaser blast. It sickens her.

Their blood is on her hands too; after all, he crossed time and space for her. For this reckoning.

"Are you ready to talk?" He asks. She rolls over in the bed, staring at the plate of food Landry had brought to her. She reaches out for a blueberry and she thinks of Saru and what a fine captain he'll make. He'll do everything she couldn't. She eats it slowly, it's tart and sweet and makes her yearn for home.

"Wallowing in self misery has never been becoming of you, Michael." Gabriel says at her silence.

"What else is there for me to do?" She asks. "After all, I'm in confinement."

"It doesn't have to be this way." He tells her.

Michael rolls her eyes.

"What other way is there? You can't have me." She tells him strongly. He comes close to the bed and she's ready to hurt him if it comes to that.

"Answer me this," he begins. "Did I ever make you uncomfortable when we were alone together?"

Michael looks away from him, refusing to give him any satisfaction. He didn't.

"Did I ever exude any predatory behavior towards you?" He continues when she doesn't answer.

"Why are you asking me this?" She demands quietly.

"Because the emperor had you believe I was _grooming_ you from a young age. I assure you that wasn't the case."

Michael laughs bitterly.

"Did it ever occur to you I can't believe either of you?" She asks him and he nods.

"It did. But despite how long we knew each other you take her word over mine. And all because she had the same face of a woman you admired."

"Leave me be." She begs him, but he won't stop.

"Not until you at least give me the benefit of the doubt."

Inside she feels like she's crumbling; she doesn't want to, he doesn't deserve that.

"If I hadn't stayed... would you have destroyed _Discovery_?" She asks, still not looking at him. He doesn't answer and she feels a chill wash over her.

Michael feels his hand on her shoulder and she flinches away.

"Don't." She doesn't tell him, she orders him. His hand balls into a fist in the corner of her eye. Would he strike her? No. He wouldn't dare hurt her, that's where she holds the advantage.

"In time, you'll see." Is all he says before he leaves again. Gabriel hears her throw the plate of food against the doors as they slide close. It bitters him, enrages him. It's all he can not to turn back and shout at her, or worse. So he leaves.


	3. III

One month goes by. He hasn't seen her. He kept his distance for longer in her universe. But it was harder than he thought. He gets reports from Landry every day. She's silent, eats, meditates. Every day she's taken for a walk under guard as exercise and it's while she's out of her quarters that the room is checked to see if she's tampered with anything.

There's never any sign she's tried to open a compartment or paneling. They even removed her replicator. If she needs or wants anything she must ask Landry.

It's the dead of night, but in space it's always night; he's tossing and turning, dreams of her and the stars of her universe, they torment him with their calm, with their light.

He finally can't stand it anymore and he comes to her quarters. Landry is standing guard as usual. He dismisses her and the other guard. She looks at him wearily.

"Sir-"

"I gave you an order." He says darkly and she swallows and leaves.

He hasn't come armed. He enters the quarters and the doors slide and lock behind him.

Michael's in the shower. Gabriel can smell the scented body wash and he pictures her under the spray. He knows what her body will look like, it will be soft and fit and with less scar tissue.

He goes to the opening of the bathroom, he doesn't enter, simply lets the escaping steam wash over him like a baptism. His hands clench the frame, his head hung.

The water shuts off. He doesn't leave. A dark, lithe hand and arm appear and take a towel lying there. He wonders why she's awake and why she needed to shower. He examines the room, leaving the entrance to the bathroom with silent steps. He looks at the bed, the rumbled sheets and comforter.

Gabriel's breath leaves him quickly at the sight of the dark spot on the sheets, the aroma of her sex as he nears the bed, the lingering scent of sweat.

He moves back to the frame of the bathroom, his body reacting in the only natural way it knows. She's applying a lotion and for a brief moment it's his Michael again, waiting for him to return to her. Until this Michael Burnham's eyes meet his in the mirror and she freezes.

Nearly bare to him, entirely vulnerable. She swallows thickly as he openly gazes at her through heavy eyes. His lust made apparent, her eyes avert.

"Do you need something?" She asks when the silence becomes too much. She feels him drawing closer, the shadow of him engulfing her.

Gabriel says nothing. He dwarfs her, her modest frame swallowed by his larger one. He can't help himself...

Michael feels his fingers on her chin, she doesn't want to look at him. But she can't deny the abnormal and terrible twinge in her gut when she sees the look in his eyes. Like he wants to eat her alive.

"Look at me." He finally speaks, his voice rough and raw, like he hasn't drank water in days.

It's so hard to face him in this state but she does. She is strong, she is powerful. She will not wilt under him.

His eyes are glassy, bluer even in this universe than her own. As if the absence of hope and purity haven't muddied the depths of his eyes, but enhanced it.

Michael can't hold the look and darts her eyes anywhere but at his. But she knows he's looking at her, taking her in, caressing her without touching her. His fingers haven't left her chin. And suddenly the fingertips of his other hand trail down her damp, bare arm.

It's like she's made of glass and he's afraid he'll break her.

"Please." She finds herself saying against her will. But his exploration doesn't stop; his fingers map out her arm, her shoulder, her neck until his fingers curl around the lobe of one ear.

Michael's every instinct is telling her to attack, to push him away and put an end to this madness. And she hates herself for feeling herself respond to him.

"You have... no idea," he whispers hoarsely. "The things..." he stops himself, her eyes meeting his again and he suddenly tears himself away from her, storming into the other room, leaving her.

She grips the countertop, a hand over her stomach clutching the fabric of the towel. Her breath is uneven, her adrenaline pumping through her veins, her heart is in her throat.

From her quarters she hears him pacing, he hasn't left. She wishes he would. This is not what either of them needs now.

"I'm sorry." She hears from the bedroom. She dares not go in there. "Please, get dressed." He begs.

"Would that stop you?" She can't help but ask.

His answer is his departure. She wishes she could lock it herself, a combination only she knew to keep all these Terran faces out. She's isolated and alone but she's never felt her space more invaded before.


	4. IV

Two days later Landry is walking her like a dog, not literally of course. She's taking in her surroundings. Landry never diverges from the route, it's always the same. Michael had seen plenty of the _Charon_ when she escaped from the emperor's chambers but the ship was a leviathan. A moving city in space. Michael knows why the route never changes.

Lorca doesn't want her to know anything about the ship. They pass gardens, gyms, mess halls. Nothing important. Not the science labs, engineering, not even the bridge or the brig. But she has an idea what that hell might look like.

Michael thinks nothing of their walk until Landry _does_ change the route. For a moment Michael is nervous, they direct her down corridors she's not familiar with. She passes guarded rooms, she feels like she's back to her first day on _Discovery_.

But this is no Federation ship of hope and unity and peace. It is a cloaked warship, built to end planets and lives. Built to inflict suffering.

Landry brings her to two golden doors, she presses a comm button. Moments later the doors slide open. Michael is instructed to enter, when the doors close again she's the only one in the room.

It is in this moment of deja-vu she knows where Landry has taken her. Landry's counterpart had lead her down a similar path once before.

"Where are you?" Michael asks, the room is spartan. A bed, a desk, a place to work. Weapons adorn the walls; a lethal cocktail of barren male austere and a warrior's refuge.

"Lights." She hears him say, the room comes alive and he steps towards her from the shadows.

"I wanted to apologize." He cuts right to the chase.

"For giving me no choice to stay here or invading my privacy?" She asks pointedly.

Gabriel grits his teeth.

"I'm... _trying_ to be gentlemanly." He says and she wants to laugh.

"Then do the honorable thing and let me go."

Gabriel turns away from her.

"Drink?" He offers and she doesn't answer. He replicates a whiskey. "I must say, I'll miss the stuff from your universe."

"How very poetic of you." She replies snidely.

"I hate poetry." He tells her and she shakes her head.

"A man who has done the things you've done has more in common with dead poets than you realize."

Gabriel cracks a smile.

"We'll agree to disagree." He says and she remembers their last hours on _Discovery_. How differently she had thought of him then. When she had trusted him, let him lead her.

"Do you accept my apology?" He asks her. She turns to look at the weapons. How very similar this place is to his war room back on _Discovery_. She wonders what Saru has done to it. She wonders how Tilly is getting on. Ash even, though the thought of him causes her to feel nauseous.

"I can't," she says. "Not until you give me some sort of privacy. It's... unsavory how you just barge in and out."

Gabriel finishes his glass and sets it down.

"I'll give you more freedom." he says. She looks to him, narrowly.

"In exchange for what?" She hates the way the words sound. He ponders that for a moment and she hates imagining what he's thinking.

"Company." He simply answers.

"Company?" She parrots. He nods.

"Once a day, you join me here and I'll... permit you more freedoms."

Michael crosses her arms.

"Alone, unguarded." She says but he shakes his head.

"No."

"Then we have no bargain."

Gabriel slaps the glass onto the floor, it shatters.

"Damn it, Michael, I'm trying-"

"No you're not you're just trying to make yourself feel better by giving me a bigger cage than I already have!"

He snaps. Crossing the room he takes her by the wrist, twisting it behind her back. He sees her other hand, like a snake striking and aiming for his neck.

 _Fucking sneaky Vulcans,_ he thinks.

Gabriel snatches her striking hand that's full of venom. He holds her close, she struggles and stares at him with an anger he's seen in her before; the other her had the same look when she fought.

"I can make your cage as big or as small as I like," he hisses into her ear, she flinches away. "I can make you do anything I wish."

Michael feels his body against hers; his heat and scent are overpowering her senses. She turns her face away from his, his breath hot on her neck.

"You're here, Michael, because you chose to be here." He reminds her. "Don't make this unpleasant."

With that he releases her. She rubs her wrist, backing away from him.

"You're not my doll, you're not my mistress. You're my guest. But there are still rules that apply to you." He tells her evenly. He goes to his desk and takes out a black bracelet. With his hand he gestures her to come to him. She hesitates.

"Now." He orders firmly, she comes to him begrudgingly. "Hold out your wrist."

Michael does, he snaps on the black bracelet and it lights up with little red lights.

"It has a range of where you can and cannot go." He tells her.

"And I suppose I'll feel horrible pain if I go beyond those limits?" She asks him dryly.

"I wouldn't do that to you." He says, as if it were obvious. She almost feels guilty for doubting him.

Gabriel takes her wrist in both his hands, pressing a button on the side, it turns green.

"Green means you're in the areas you're permitted to be. Red means you're not," he explains, turning her wrist over. His hands rough on her skin, treating her delicately when only moments ago they had been a vice around her bones.

"It will send an alert when you've gone out of bounds."

"What's out of bounds?" She asks. He smiles.

"I think you'll know."

He still holds her wrist. He sees his handy work, her skin red and sore from his grip. He grits his teeth again. She doesn't want him to apologize and he doesn't, simply releases her.

"You may go." He tells her gruffly, turning away from her.

Michael walks to the doors, looking back briefly at him, his back to her, his hands on his desk hunched over.

"Thank you." Is all she says before leaving him.


	5. V

"I hate this game." He says with a sigh. Moving his black knight. She raises an eyebrow.

"You should enjoy it, being a man of war and conquer." She tells him.

"I prefer the real deal." He informs her. She takes his pawn, his eyes narrow at her.

"If it were possible I'd say you were cheating." He accuses.

"It's not." She tells him simply.

Gabriel moves his bishop.

"You're focusing too much on the knights and bishops. Your pawns matter too." She says, moving her rook.

"Pawns are cannon fodder." He argues.

"To some."

Gabriel makes his next move, then watches her. She studies the board intently. He likes to watch her, to see her mind think. Her counterpart had detested the game as well. Most Terrans did in his experience. They all preferred real war. What was the point in faking it?

"Good move," she says to him and he feels proud. "However," she pauses picking up her rook again. "You left your queen defenseless."

Gabriel watches as she elegantly moves her rook into place, taking his queen. He can't help but scoff at the irony.

"Check." She says primly.

"You're a terrible winner." He tells her, grouchy and irritated at the game. He can think of a hundred different things he'd rather be doing... or one.

"I know what I'm good at." She says, he feels himself harden at the wording.

Just being near her anytime nearly makes him hard. He can't help but remember the countless times he and her counterpart fucked, all of the carnal and salacious things they did together.

Right under her mother's nose. Gabriel wanted to tell this Michael most of those lewd things had been her other half's idea.

"Let's play something else." He suggests, clearing the board much to her disappointment. She swallows as he moves away. She wrings her hands.

"Such as?" She asks.

"I'm sure they have truth or lie where you're from." He says, replicating a drink. She asks for water which he provides. She watches him to make sure he doesn't dose her with anything.

"A game for children." She quips.

"Indulge me." He says, relaxing back in his chair across from her. The table now clear except for their glasses.

"Who should start?" She asks him wearily.

"Ladies first." He says, smirking and raising his glass to his lips.

Michael copies him, her stomach fluttering for some reason.

"During my youth on Vulcan I... stole a shuttle." She says, he laughs heartily.

"That's a lie."

Michael sighs and nods curtly.

"As I said, a game for children." She says, even sounding mildly childish.

"My turn." He says, reclining in his chair and thinking for a moment. "I've only loved one woman."

Michael groans and shakes her head, he frowns. A laugh tickling her throat.

"What?" He asks, feeling defensive.

"I find that very hard to believe."

When he doesn't laugh she ceases her own. He stares at her, his defenses down, he's unguarded. His eyes go soft, watery. She lowers her gaze.

"I'm sorry for laughing." She tells him.

"Why did you?" He asks, purposely.

"You just... don't seem like-"

Michael stops when he rises and goes to his desk, planting his glass down and tapping a few buttons.

"You can go." He tells her. She follows him, standing behind him.

"I'm sorry." She says to him again, reaching out but not touching him. She does feel guilty.

Sometimes she forgets he is still a person. He's from a different universe but he has feelings, emotions. He loved someone once... _once_.

Gabriel glances at her, he knew she was close but... feeling her near to him has another effect on him entirely. Every time she's near, even if it's a moment, he restrains himself.

"It's alright. After all, I think I still have more to apologize for." He says grimly, looking away from her.

Michael feels the impulse to comfort him but stops herself. He had a history of lying and manipulating people, especially her. Was this real? How can she know when he's lying or when he's being honest? Does he even know where his truth lay?

"I did love her," he says suddenly. "More than you know."

That, Michael did believe.

"I'm not her." She tells him, as honestly and even as gently as she can.

"I know." He adds quickly. "Trust me, I know. I didn't think it was possible..." he trails off and she furrows her brow.

Gabriel reaches out but stops himself from touching her, his hands halting in midair, more so when she cringed away from her, her eyes looking away.

"It's-"

"I know." He cuts in.


	6. VI

They continue to share company together. Michael finds herself almost forgetting she's a prisoner, she has to remind herself over and over again. But it's getting harder. She does explore the _Charon_ as much as she can.

Looking for any way of escaping. So far she has come up short. She knew he had to be watching her, not just on her bracelet. There were security cameras everywhere.

"What do you think of the ship?" He asks during one of their meetings. There is no chess, there is only them, sitting side by side on the comfortable couch in his quarters. She pauses only briefly drinking from her glass of water.

"It's expansive." She says.

"Let's not pretend, Michael," he tells her and she feigns innocence. "You're looking for a way out."

Michael doesn't lower her gaze.

"Can you blame me?" She asks, her voice dismal.

"No."

"Then-"

"I'm not letting you leave and I'm not giving you anymore freedom."

Michael places her glass down on the table before them. The stars flicker through the viewing screen. She still hasn't gotten used to the light. It doesn't burn or sting her eyes. It's simply muddled. Like looking through an old lense. And yet his eyes are so bright here.

What if she tried another approach? She didn't like the idea but it was quickly becoming her only option.

"What is the price for more freedom?" She asks him, attempting to keep her voice from trembling. The idea of selling herself...

Gabriel tilts his head slightly at her question.

"Price?" He questions. Michael inches herself closer to him, her knee brushing his own. The minute closeness was not lost on him.

"What would you ask of me?" She asks him. He's silenced. She places her hand on his, touching him feels strange.

His skin isn't soft, it's Terran rough and Terran strong. He's different from other men, but even men in her own universe had eluded her.

Customary dating and mating rituals were crude to her, what were they in this harsh society?

Gabriel still doesn't answer, he simply watches her with guarded eyes. Michael wishes he would have some reaction. Perhaps he was waiting to see if this were genuine. If she would chicken out. But if she wanted a way out, any way out, she resigned herself to the fact she might have to take a path she wasn't familiar with.

It was now or never.

Taking the plunge she cups the side of his face and brings her mouth to his. She simply presses her lips to his, he doesn't move. Detaching her mouth from his she remains inches from his lips, her bottom lip sliding across his on the retreat. His eyes seem to flash something unbidden. His hand reaches out to her, copying her earlier movement, bringing her mouth back to his.

His quarters suddenly seem so unbearably quiet, she can't even hear the hum of the _Charon_. She can only feel him breathing through his nose against her, his lips tasting male and natural.

Michael presses a hand to his chest, instinct she rationalized. She needs balance as he leaned into her, not because she itched to know the feel of his muscular chest against her palm. His lips demand her to part her own. She had a difficult time giving in. This was wrong, she didn't really want him this way. Did she? She felt her stomach tighten, her nipples hardened beneath her shirt.

And then he is lying her back. His mouth becoming more ambitious, she feels his tongue, his hands on her waist, his leg moving between her thighs.

It took everything in her not to push him away. She doesn't want this. But she has to. She couldn't do this, but she needs to.

She feels his hand on her throat, but he doesn't squeeze, his thumb grazing her jawline. She gives in, opening her mouth and unable suppress the moan that escapes her. His tongue feels sturdy against her own, his body strong and hot against her.

Michael shudders when his mouth leaves hers only to kiss her neck, pulling the sleeve of her shirt down to reveal more of her skin to his greedy lips. She feels his tongue on her, his teeth grazing her in a faux bite.

 _Would he mark me like that?_ She wonders, trying to stay focused on her task. More importantly, would he honor her and give her what she wanted if she gave in to him? It was a gamble. She couldn't detour from it now.

Michael moves her hands along his back, holding him to her as she struggles to keep up with the act. It is an act, she keeps telling herself. Even if the way he moves his thigh against her core feels good, even if the way he runs his thumb over her nipple makes her quiver and her hands shake.

He knows how to touch her... of course he did. But could she touch him as intimately? Men didn't have the same erotic parts as women. You could touch a woman in many ways, but a man... there was only so few areas. And despite her intimate relations with Ash, it had been brief and now tainted.

Lorca comes back to kiss her more roughly on the mouth, his tongue demanding an audience with her own. She tries to stay with him, her hand holding his face. She had a strange sensation they were going to be caught, that what they were doing was forbidden.

She feels his hand sliding up her frilly shirt, his fingers tickling her belly and causing her to pant in anticipation.

Anticipation of what... this was an act. She couldn't be enjoying it. It was an act... it was all an act-

His hand closes around her breast and she tears her mouth away from his, he kisses her neck and nibbles at her earlobe. She was playing her part well, she deduced. She saw her glass of water on the table, she could grab it and smash it over his head. His guard was down, he wouldn't know until it was too late. He kept a phaser in here somewhere, she could shoot her way out. But what then? The _Charon_ was filled with his followers. She couldn't, even if the idea was tantalizing.

But what if it was her only chance?

He squeezes her breast, her nipple between two fingers and she cries out, she feels him smirk against her neck and it sickens and arouses her further.

"I'm only just getting started." He whispers against her skin, his lips following the path of neck. He pushes her shirt up, baring her breasts to him which she immediately seeks to cover. She can't go any through with it, she wasn't strong enough for this. She couldn't give herself to him this way. He seems to realize it too, staring down at her as she shields her chest from his eyes.

"I thought so." He says, removing himself from her and standing. "You can go."

Michael lowers her shirt and stands on shaky legs, making her way to the door.

"Rule number one of seduction, Michael," he says and she pauses. "Don't become seduced yourself."


	7. VII

The meetings end briefly after the incident. She feels like a fool. She couldn't have gone through with it entirely. Sleeping with the enemy felt so archaic. He was her enemy after all. Her captor.

He didn't ask for her, didn't call for her. Until she finally came to him. Landry didn't lead her to Lorca's quarters when she requested to see him. Instead, the woman was leaving his rooms as Michael was entering, smirking at her as she left. Michael felt a twinge of something she couldn't place. It wasn't... jealousy.

Lorca looks relaxed, his hair mussed as he stands at his desk. He closes the 3D hologram quickly.

"Michael, what do I owe the honor?" He asks, coming around the other side.

"I hope I wasn't interrupting anything." She sneers. He crosses his arms.

"Just going over some routine security changes." He says simply.

Michael almost feels relieved but throws it away.

"Did you need something?" He asks when she says nothing.

"You haven't asked to see me." She tells him. He shrugs.

"Been busy. Running an empire is a full time job." He replies smartly.

"You're angry at me." She says and he shakes his head.

"For what? Trying to seduce me to get what you want?" He says coming towards her, she almost backs away.

"You can understand why I would." She retorts with equal fervor.

"Yeah, I can. I knew you wouldn't go through with it though."

Michael feels the sharpness in his reply. She wants to smack the look off his face. He thinks he knows her so well.

"Look," he says with a sigh, planting his hands on his hips. "I'm not about to trade favors for sex. If you want me, then come to me. If you want something out of it then I guess you'll have to find someone else."

He turns his back to her, picking up a tablet and tapping away. She feels her anger rise. Is this how he trapped her counterpart?

Michael comes up behind, whispering in his ear,

"I know you too. I know you're aching for me." He stiffens, she sees his jaws tense.

He turns his head to look down at her.

"You think so?" Gabriel asks, his voice coarse. "You think I wouldn't just _take_ you?"

The idea frightens her. But she is willing to be he wouldn't.

"No. You wouldn't hurt me like that. You know it would only push me away." She tells him knowingly. She gasps when he drops the tablet to wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her against him. Reminding her of the feel of his body, the strength behind it. Maybe this was what she wanted... the reaction she was hoping for.

Why else would she have openly antagonized him?

"What do I know? It was all an act." She says, defiantly.

"You're givin' me too much credit." He says, his eyes roaming over her face, landing on her lips, leaning in just a little. "Tell me you faked it when I kissed you, when I touched her," she feels his hand on her ass, grinding her against him. "Tell me you weren't wet under your skirt for it."

She shoves him away and slaps him, cracking his bottom lip. He runs his tongue along the cut, it stings. She's not afraid of his retribution. He grabs her face and kisses her hard, she responds to it.

His tongue is inside her mouth, coaxing hers to meet him. She wraps her arms around his neck, burying her hands in his hair.

Michael steeled herself and her courage. She could do this. She could be brave. She could let him think he was conquering her.

Gabriel turns them, planting her on his desk, one similar to the one on _Discovery_. He pushes her legs apart, yanking her against him until her legs were around his waist. He was right. She didn't fake it, it was lust she felt when he touched her. But not love.

She felt him pushing her skirt up her legs, reaching under and tearing her underwear down her legs. She is shaking terribly. She uses it to her advantage.

"Please," she says as he attacks her neck, biting gently in her flesh. Her core slicking against her will.

Gabriel groans as he slips his hand below her waist and she flinches when his fingers make contact.

"Relax." He says gently, his tone comforting but ragged. She hates how wet she is for him, how she does want him but only in this way. He moans softly, out of character, when he feels how wet she is. How easily his fingers glide through her folds, pressing down on her clit.

"Fuck you feel good." He says against her mouth. "I'm so hard."

Michael internally cringes at his words but doesn't show it. She feels him take her hand and he presses it to the front of his trousers. Her eyes widen at his size. He releases her hand to touch her elsewhere and she strokes him through his pants, he grunts and breathes hard through his nose.

She tastes his blood in her mouth, his saliva. She wants more. She brings his mouth back to hers, holding onto him for dear life.

This horrible affair will be her undoing. She wants him but doesn't. Michael releases his belt buckle and reaches inside to feel him, really feel.

"Yes." He hisses through clenched teeth as her fingers wrap around his aching length.

Michael watches him, unable to look away as she brings him close to the edge with only her hand.

Then he's pushing her hand away, taking deep breaths before tightening her legs around his waist. She knows what's coming next. She's mentally prepared herself for it. There's no going back now.

She feels the blunt tip of his cock at her wet opening, feels him sliding it against her. She can't help but moan. There's one last part of her act that isn't an act at all. She grips his shoulders in her hands, her fingernails biting into his flesh through the fabric of his shirt.

"Gently, please. Don't hurt me." She begs, half feigning an innocence she knows he can't resist.

He kisses her gently as he presses forward, nudging her outer lips apart with his cock. She trembles.

"I won't hurt you," he promises quietly, his cock sliding deeper inside of her, his mouth coming to her ear. "I'm gonna make you scream."

His eyes darken on the last word and she realizes he _knows_ this was a game all along. He surges forward and she cries out. She's so tight, he's so big, he's everywhere inside her. Tearing her, binding her. It hurts and it feels wonderful. Fitting, perfect. He wastes little time and begins fucking her hard on his desk.

That same feeling of the forbidden returns, there's something so utterly taboo about all of this. It feels secretive, base, banned and unallowed.

Someone will find them, kill them for this.

Michael is panting, her throat dry, she swallows to soothe the ache but it only returns. His breath is so hot and raw in her face, his quarters are humid and it's appropriate he's fucking her anywhere but in a bed. She holds him, feeling her ass sliding across his desk with each powerful thrust.

Each pass of his cock seems to hit her harder than before, silencing her logical mind and awakening a different one entirely. She feels elated, so high without any intention of coming down.

She grasps at him, kisses him. Wants more and more.

"Say my name." He commands against her cheek, panting like an animal as he ruts inside of her.

"Gabriel." She whimpers.

"Again. Make me believe it." He tells her.

"Gabriel!" She cries harder. He sighs.

"Yes... yes."

God, she didn't think he could feel any larger, but he pulls her off the desk to stand and fuck and he moves deeper and deeper... harder, faster. He brings them to the floor, he tears her dress off in pieces attacking her breasts and she lets him. She lets him hold her down, lets him holding her by her throat, the barest pressure following it.

His eyes are so intense, so mad, so beautiful. She watches him unbridling himself, he knows this isn't real. It wasn't, couldn't be.

Slowing, he rests himself over her. Kissing her thoroughly as she catches her breath. Her core is aching, sore and begging for him to continue.

"I could be good to you," he tells her and she shakes her head, urging him to silence himself. But he can't, he won't. "I could be better for you."

"Shh." She tells him, moving her hips against him, urging him to continue. He's taking her out of the moment, away from the characters they're playing. It breaks his heart.

Gabriel resumes his wild taking of her body. Claiming only half of her, conquering only the shallow side of her. Her body takes him, but her mind is elusive. She had promised him her mind and he had thought that was all he had wanted. But now, fucking her into oblivion, he realized what a fool he had been.

It should have been her mind all along.

And now, as he feels his orgasm quickly approaching, it was too late for him to try.

Michael sits up, angling her hips to meet his, taking him deeper inside of her. He can tell it both pains and pleases her.

"Say my name when you cum." He commands, harshly. She nods weakly.

She's getting there, she warns him she is close. He rubs her clit, pressing down hard with his thumb. She scratches his chest, the pain sending a hot boiling curl into his stomach. Her breath hitches, her womanhood clenches like a tight fist around him and she bucks madly. He aids her the rest of the way, slow but deep purposeful thrusts.

"Gabriel!" She manages to gasp in the heat of it. It's enough to send him to his own end.

 _I'll cum inside her, mark her pretty little cunt with my seed. Then she'll know she is mine,_ he thinks frantically. Slamming his hand onto the hard floor beside her head he cums with a deep cry, she flinches from it.

"Fuck..." he mumbles, his head falling loosely to her chest. He feels her legs weakly fall apart as they release the tension they hold in them. He's wide between her thighs. She's warm, he's on fire.

Strangely, she strokes the back of his neck lovingly. He closes his eyes and he is with his Michael again.


	8. VIII

Michael doesn't recognize herself in this place. She doesn't see the Starfleet officer she once was, she's fading further and further away. That woman is becoming fuzzy, out of focus, a distorted memory. Even when she had been in prison, she at least had the comfort of knowing the universe that surrounded her was her own and she could at least vaguely predict it's rolling outcome. But now, she was a stranger to herself.

More freedoms were afforded. She was allowed to move about the ship unguarded, but restrictions were still kept. But alone, Michael could at least go to the areas she liked that weren't restricted. She could interact more with the crew. She needed friends outside of Lorca. And he wasn't a friend. He was her captor.

After they had sex he had given her no option but to sleep in his bed, to rest. And she had indeed needed rest. When she woke he was gone, a message was left to her delivered by Landry from him. Her bracelet was taken and upgraded. Michael felt cheap, she returned to her own cage and cried.

She had naively hoped that when he said he wouldn't "trade favors for sex" that he was at least being honest. She felt her stomach drop that it was the opposite. But what had she been expecting?

She still wasn't mistress or even lover. Concubine sounded more appropriate.

The bracelet glowed green crudely at her. In her imagination she could hear him say, "you earned it" as the bracelet stared back at her.

Michael was exploring the lower decks when she heard raised voices. She followed the inaudible sounds until she came to a large chamber; four Kelpians were on their knees, her stomach dropped. Lorca stood before them, in his silver and black armor. Two of his followers stood on either side of the Kelpians. She had come to know the men's names as Cross and Barge.

"We found them hiding in the jeffries tubes. Cowering like animals." Cross said cruelly.

Lorca paced before the slaves with his arms crossed, Michael came into the room a little but stayed far back.

"What shall we do with them, Gabriel?" Barge asked, pressing his phaser into the back of the head of one fearful Kelpian. Michael's heart clenched. She was about to witness a massacre, she couldn't look away. She wouldn't. This is what she sewed.

"Are there any more of your kind on my ship?" Lorca demanded sternly from them. They shook their heads, unable to speak. Perhaps they didn't think they could. Maybe they were never taught.

Michael wanted to go to them, to lay her body in front of them, to protect them.

"Do you tell the truth?" Lorca asked, the Kelpians, in their dirty rags for clothing, nodded their heads in unison. One wept, they held hands as they were about to meet their fate. Food or a quick death... what was the difference in this place?

"I'm trusting you are," Lorca said, dangerously. "Put them in an escape pod. Jettison them to their homeworld."

"Sir?" Cross questioned, Lorca narrowed his eyes at the man.

"You dare _question_ me?" Lorca asked, baring his teeth. It was like watching an adolescent lion attempt to challenge the head of the pride. The younger man coward visibly.

"No."

"Then do as I command. I'll not reinvigorate the old emperor's regime and judgements. I'll pass my own," Lorca paused looking back to the Kelpians. "Go back to your world, tell them I spared your lives and if they dare cross into my space again I shall not be so merciful. We are not brothers, we are enemies. But remember that I give you back your life today."

The Kelpians look on him in disbelief as they were dragged away. Michael couldn't believe what she was seeing. As Cross and Barge left, the Kelpians looked at her in fear, turning away.

Michael entered the chamber fully. It was a training room for phaser practice.

"You did that for my benefit." She says, her voice shaky. Lorca scoffs at her and comes towards her. She steps back.

"I just sent a powerful message. They'll follow me now." He says proudly.

"What?"

"They'll return home and tell whatever Kelpians remain that I granted them mercy. Don't you see? Their whole world will do whatever I ask now, all for clemency."

Michael gapes at him.

"You spared them for favor?" She asks, inasmuch disbelief as the Kelpians.

"They'll see me as a more than an emperor now. A god even."

Michael shakes her head slowly.

"You learned nothing from us." She says lowly, sadly.

"I learned what I needed."

"Was your counterpart as selfish or is this another trait that transcends time and reality?"

Lorca almost hits her but doesn't. That's not his way. Instead he leaves her to wallow in her own disappointment. He didn't do it for her, he keeps telling himself. He did it for his followers, for his new empire. He didn't do it for her...

When Lorca comes to her, the hour is late. But time has ceased to matter to her. He doesn't barge in. He presses the comm and waits. He thinks she won't let him. He'll blast the whole damn door down if he has to. He has to be with her again. It's been days since they fucked. Since he felt her so snuggly and warm around him. He can almost taste her mouth.

The doors slide open with her command and he enters slowly. She's on the bed, naked under the covers but facing away from him. He breathes deeply as he approaches her.

"Turn over." He orders, but regrets it. She does anyhow because it's too late for him to tell her it's alright. That he wants her but that it can wait. But she undoes him every time.

Sitting up, Michael hates the way the sheet feels when it falls from her upper body. She wants to cover herself again, but the look in his eyes makes her quiver in ways that she hates. She hates him. She despises him to her core. But it is her primal urge to want to rake her nails across his back, to bite at his lips.

Could she give into those dark thoughts? It seemed so easy for him.

Gabriel's mouth waters at the sight of her, shaking and willing to give him her body but unwilling to give him her mind. It torments him. So he will take whatever he can.

Michael watches him undress, defrocking himself of his emperor's garb. Revealing the scared and tattooed man beneath. He pulls the sheet aside and joins her, taking her chin between his fingers to kiss her in a lingering and burning way.

"Let me be good to you." He pleads, holding her head in his hands, her life.

"No." She answers firmly. She feels him tighten his grip on her, he pushes her down and takes his fitting place between her legs. She feels him there, wants him there, hates that it's him who has awakened this part of herself.

"You once promised me your mind." He reminds her. Michael shakes her head.

"That time has passed, Gabriel." She whispers, morosely, calling him by his given name and it breaks him.

Michael gasps when he clenches her wrists in his fist, high above her head, exposing her vulnerable throat and her chest to him. She sees him fight his anger. His eyes aglow, his body alight. She expects it to be hard and fast, rough and Terran-like. The only way he knows how.

But as she watches him, Gabriel's face softens, his eyes water and he releases her wrists, relaxing his body against hers. Her brow furrows.

"What?" She can't help but ask when he does nothing.

"You think I can't be good," he says. "I endeavor to prove you wrong."

With that he stands, leaving her naked and prone. She watches in shock as he redresses. It's torture for him to leave her. It's an agonizer booth. Phaser fire to the heart. He wishes he had a door to slam, but that wouldn't be what a good man would do.

"Gabriel-" she tries but he leaves her, the doors sliding shut softly. She pulls the sheet over her chest, holding it tightly because she has nothing else to hold onto.


	9. IX

IX

"The others are talking," Ellen tells him quietly in his quarters. "Ever since you let the Kelpians leave... there's been talk. Especially amongst Cross and Barge."

Gabriel grunts.

"There's always been talk." He reminds her and she groans.

"This isn't a game, Gabriel. You must show you can be strong." She urges him. He narrows his eyes at her. His trusted friend, companion, even lover at times.

Gabriel has always believed in her loyalty more than others. She's proved her mettle enough.

"I crossed time and space," he snaps at her but she doesn't back down, she doesn't flinch. "I risked my life, my very being for you and for the others. Four Kelpians is enough to cast doubt over all that I have done?"

It's a rhetorical question, Ellen knows this. She comes closer to him, taking his hand.

"It wasn't just us you did all that for, Gabriel." She says to him knowingly. He relents.

"What else do they say?" He asks her, more gently this time.

"That you've gone soft. That there is someone making you lose your edge." He grips her hand at her words. She's trying not to be indelicate. She knows how much he cares for Burnham.

"Reinforce punishment to anyone who dares mention her name in hostility. Put Cross and Barge in a booth." He says, letting her hand fall from his.

"Gabriel, they believe in you but-"

"But not enough anymore," he cuts in. "She is here for a reason, Ellen."

"Then _show_ them she is." Ellen says before she leaves him. She has planted the seed. She dares not come between him and Burnham.

Their time together had been fulfilling but that was all. Their friendship means more to her.

For all this time Ellen had never strayed from him. Never disbelieved his teachings. Even now, with the talk amongst his followers, she didn't doubt him. But she knew when it came to Burnham he needed reminding that sometimes his followers needed to come first.

She would give the order to have Cross and Barge punished. Ellen only feared it might breed more resentment in their trusted leader.

With Ellen gone, Gabriel let his guard down briefly. Hanging his shoulders and sighing deeply.

A part of him knew she was right. It always came back to Michael in the end.

 _Here's hoping I'd find a better version of myself over here,_ he had said during their last hours on _Discovery_. He can't help himself, he almost misses that beautiful lady. She was a fine ship. And they had been a finer crew than he deserved. He had meant it when he said he was proud of them. He had no reason not to be.

He knew Saru had the makings a good captain in that universe. He embodied everything Gabriel knew he couldn't. Fair play, kindness, compassion. He never did know why Saru never sensed him as a threat, he should have by all accounts mistrusted him the moment they met.

It had been difficult to acclimate to that new life, to that facade. He never truly did. He never got used to moving around a starship without a phaser, he always expected someone to stab him in the back. He had to resist the urge not to be ready to fight for his life every time he entered a turbolift with one or more person.

Gabriel hates that the moment he finally felt at home in that place was the day he saw Michael again. That horrible yellow prison jumpsuit did nothing to hide how beautiful he still found her.

Her hair was shorter and yet still acted like a halo. He had behaved calmly, cool and collected. He even foolishly tried to flirt with her, he saw her then. She wasn't easily won over by masculine overtures. So he had stopped there.

He had refrained from so much as touching her, despite the desperate way he longed to. He wanted to give her everything, afford her every comfort. But he couldn't be seen as picking favorites.

Now he could give her anything she wished, any comfort, any material or sentimental thing she ever desired, he could give to her. And yet nothing satisfied her. But what did any of that matter when he couldn't have her fully?

They eat in silence, she pokes her food and he sighs.

"It wasn't a person." He assures her. She glances at him out of the corner of her eye before raising her fork to take a bite. Chicken.

The sound of awkward chewing fills the room. She looks lovely tonight. A gold cotton dress, she looks demure not seductive and yet it has the same effect on him regardless.

"How was your day?" He asks, the words sound strange coming from him, even he knows that.

"I read." She answers, curtly.

"What?" He inquires further.

"Does it matter?"

Gabriel plants both palms down on the table, securing himself to it. He's trying to look anywhere but at her. He'll be lost if he does.

"Can I ask something?" She interrupts his train of thought and he's relieved for the disruption.

"I don't see why not."

"Why did you love her?"

Gabriel regrets giving her permission to ask him anything at all. He feels like he's been punched in the gut. Because the truth is he still loves his Michael and he loves the one who sits beside him, and it kills him because he's never stopped mourning.

Every time he looks at this Michael Burnham he's reminded of what he's lost, and every time he looks at her he's reminded painfully of what he'll never have. And moreover, how loving her is different than loving the Michael he lost. Because at least he knows she's gone for good, this Michael lives and breathes before him, untrusting him and watching him with eyes that cut him to pieces.

She was the noose around his neck, the blade at his throat. She choked the life out of him and brought him back all the same. The nymph in the wood, the valkyrie leading him to Valhalla.

And it was only living Michael Burnham that did all that to him and more.

"You could've asked me how my day was." He rasps, bringing his wine to his mouth but too disgusted to drink. He lowers it. His appetite is gone.

"That's not what I want to know." She says and he fights the urge not to run from the room.

"I don't want to talk about her." He says as gently as he can muster.

Michael wants to press the issue more than she can bare. What kind of woman tamed the heart of this man? He was of a different like than any other man she had ever met. He was Terran born, that was the first thing. He was a seasoned warrior, had fought since the day he was born.

What was a childhood in this universe like? What horrors had he seen that made him so cold?

At first Michael had thought this world broke it's men and women; they were already shattered beyond repair the moment they were born. But a person still knows right from wrong. It's why this universe had rebels and secret alliances. Even this Lorca had seen too much of Emperor Georgiou's terror and decided to rise up against her.

Michael touches his hand and he remains motionless.

"Tell me about your day." She says softly. He chuckles, brokenly.

"Just a day." He answers, removing his hand from under hers.

Michael can't help but feel a sting of regret. Maybe he was trying to be better. But this strange way of attempting to normalize their relationship- whatever that was- wasn't working.

Their relationship was anything but normal. There was no natural order to things when it came to them. There were no rituals, no routine. They didn't even sleep in the same bed. She had slept in his quarters once and that was it. Michael's only exposure to dating was Ash, and that had ended in tears and attempted murder.

One thing she could say about Lorca was he hadn't tried to kill her. But now she was comparing apples to suffocation.

Who was the lesser evil?

Maybe Lorca's, at times, overbearing attempts to keep her safe was really his way of atoning for the woman he lost. The woman he loved he failed to protect.

"Would you like me to stay tonight?" she asks him. He slowly shakes his head, finally looking at her.

"Don't do that." He tells her.

"What?"

He stands, bringing his plate to the replicator to discard it. It disappears. Just like everything he touches.

 _Christ, I'm comparing my woes to fucking plate,_ he thinks.

"Don't... offer something you don't really want." He speaks quietly, he isn't putting on some front. He can't bare the thought of having her again when her mind is elsewhere.

On _Discovery,_ Captain Georgiou, the dead emperor, Ash; keeping her mind on anything but him. He can't put up with another false attempt to soothe his male ego.

He feels Michael's hand on his lower back, lingering there.

Gabriel can't feel anything else except her touch. He wants to believe it's genuine. He won't turn her into a whore. She's better than that. He knew it had been a mistake to give her more freedom after they fucked. Christ, what did she think of him then?

"I'm sorry." He hears her say, he can't look at her.

"Stop." He begs, he doesn't want her pity. He doesn't want her sympathy.

Michael bites her lip, she's never seen him be anything other than strong. Now he's showing weakness. She believes it. Even if she knows she shouldn't.

She cups Gabriel's face, turning him to face her, he does so without a fight. She doesn't need him to look at her.

"You don't need to always be strong," she tells him. "I don't know how to do this."

He's not touching her, not looking at her, not giving her anything. She takes a play out of his own book, taking his chin between her fingers and forcing him to look at her.

"You scare the shit out of me." He breathes out, choked and painful.

The demon inside of him wants to tear her apart; he wants to sink his teeth into her, debauch her and defile her. The demon wants to fight back. But he locks it away.

Swallowing thickly he takes her hand from him, kisses her palm then releases her.

"You should go." He tells her and he hopes she'll stay but knows she can't and that she shouldn't. If she has any sense, any of that intelligence he's always admired in her, she'll leave him in his torment.

Michael feels a tingle up her spine, as if they're being watched. That same feeling of the forbidden still hangs between them. She's already played Eve once and taken his fruit, will she again? She doesn't think she can. But she wants to.

Michael knows she's his ghost. She thought after the emperor that perhaps all her ghosts would cease to haunt her. But they don't leave her. They're both haunted now.

"What do you want from me?" She asks him and he holds his demon back.

"You know what I want." Is all he can say.

"But-"

"Please, Michael... just go."

He's already possessed her body, what more can he take? She can't give him her mind. There must be something else she can give him. But there isn't. The only thing she has to barter with is the only thing she has left for herself.

Michael leaves him without another word. In her quarters, she finds no sleep. If he would only take her then at least she would know where her place was with him. She would be his concubine, but at least she would be something. It wasn't a life she wanted but at least she would find a way to live with it.


	10. X

X

"Extend an invitation to whoever is leading the rebels that I would like an audience." Gabriel tells Ellen, she glances up from her tablet. Silent, unwavering but calculating. He notices.

"Permission to speak freely." She asks, and he knows something has changed. Ellen has never asked this of him, she is an equal to him.

"More talk?" He deduces and she nods.

"You're considering a truce of some kind." It's not a question.

"I'm considering a better way of governing an empire that is at present eating itself from the inside out."

But Ellen isn't buying it, not fully.

"With all due respect, sir, this will lead to anarchy." She tells him knowingly. He shakes his head.

"They'll understand."

"When?"

Gabriel puts a trusting hand on her shoulder.

"When I make them see the bigger picture. Dismissed." He watches her go. He tells himself he's doing this for the sake of the empire. That he's not uniting anyone, just putting a blanket over a fire. There's nothing in him that even remotely believes Federation ideals could survive in a Terran world.

Michael believes they could.

And there it was again. Was he doing this for the sake of salvaging a brutal empire or... was he doing it because somewhere along the way of trying to get back to his home, he found himself believing that maybe the idealism of the Federation and what they stood for could transfer over?

He shakes his head. It's a foolish thought, foolhardy.

No, he decides. Ellen and the others are right, he was going soft. It was Michael who made him this way. Made him think he could be better. She was right, he couldn't be.

It was in his DNA to be this way; the Demon inside him sighed, tempting him to go to her, to bed her again. She's willing, even if only in body.

Following the Demon, he finds himself at her quarters. No guard is needed anymore. There are meetings, training simulations to run, promotions, an entire empire to rule and yet he finds himself in rapture outside her door. It's all meaningless by comparison.

Gabriel knows he could simply enter, but that's not what she wants. She wants a choice. As simple as that. He presses the comm.

He doesn't understand his own behavior. He rules an entire empire, the galaxy was his, and he still asked her for permission. It enraged him. If he were a paranoid man prone to giving into such fantasies as naive ideals such as witchcraft he would call her a witch and demand to know the spell she had cast over him. This was all her fault. She knew how helpless he was against her.

Michael answers the door, dressed in a dark blue shift, a book in her hands. She had asked Landry to replicate her some classic novels.

"I didn't' think I would see you today." She comments when he says nothing.

 _Walk in, don't wait for an invitation,_ the Demon tells him. But he doesn't. It's not what she wants.

"May I come in?" He asks and for a moment she hesitates, she realizes the power he's now given her. She steps aside and he enters.

"I'm actually glad you're here," she tells him slowly. He hides the hopeful look on his face with a mask of nonchalance.

"Really?"

"Yes. I'm sorry for asking about her the other night. It's none of my business."

His hope is deflated but he appreciates the sentiment behind her apology. So, she didn't want to see him entirely in pain. She challenges him daily, constantly, even if they're not in the same room or even speaking. But her presence is felt nonetheless.

"I want..." he pauses, swallowing, deciding "want" wasn't the best course of action, so he tries again. "I would _like_ to perhaps go over the boundaries of our... relationship."

Michael raises an eyebrow at him.

"I'm your prisoner and you my captor, by definition boundaries are obsolete." She says. He shakes his head.

"No. Not anymore." He argues but she disagrees, visibly.

"We cannot establish boundaries until I know what my purpose is here. Until I know what I am here." Michael says strongly.

"I want like you to be my... my," he clears his throat trying to get the words out. "Consort."

"Consort?" She repeats. "As in... wife or as in mistress?" She wants clarification.

And Gabriel realizes where he fucked up; he said "want", he didn't ask, didn't give her a choice. Why did all of this have to be so difficult? Did she realize there were plenty of other women who would gladly warm his bed but instead he wanted her.

"What's the difference?" He asks, throwing his hands in the air. "It doesn't matter. Either way you win."

Michael lets out a shocked laugh.

"Me? How have I won anything in all of this?" She demands. They're arguing again, she remembers what happened the last time they argued. She won't deny the thrill the memory of their first time together causes. It courses through her and for a split second she can taste his tongue again.

"If I fuck you you're not really there," he says rudely. "If I keep you at arms length it's like I've lost a limb. You want to know why I loved her?"

Michael nods slowly.

"Because she loved me when I was the last man who could _ever_ be loved. She was cruel and beautiful and hateful and she took what she wanted. She was everything you aren't." Michael wonders if he's trying to hurt her, his words cut deeply and thinly into her.

"Stop projecting your feelings for her onto me," Michael tells him when he takes a breath. "I'm not her. I don't want to be her."

Gabriel frowns, then comes towards her.

"Don't you realize that's the last thing I want?" He asks, aghast she could be so short sighted. Michael doesn't understand. It's quite clear she missed the point. Gabriel's Demon comes alive when he draws closer to her, he can smell her everywhere.

"I... but why else-"

"I want _you,_ Michael." He tells her powerfully. It shakes her to her marrow. "Christ, do you even know?"

Michael clearly didn't. He shows her. Kissing her without even taking her in his arms. He simply leans his head down, catching her lips in his. It's minute and doesn't last before he moves back from her once again.

"I... I assumed you wanted me to be like her." She tells him.

"Michael, I've loved you for you this whole time. Not because you could be like her. I hate myself for saying it, I love you because you're not her. It... cuts me in half to say that."

Gabriel lowers his head, his feelings laid bare. There was a bloodbuzz is in his head, his Demon doesn't even recognize him. So it tries to establish its place in his psyche. There was a hierarchy, there was the Demon and there was him. For years they had worked well, side by side. And then he was thrown into Michael's universe and the Demon was put on the back burner. And it had resented him ever since.

"You... love _me_?" The words bring him back to the moment, she's not looking at him, she's simply saying the words as if it weren't possible. He knows Ash had said them to her, he had to of. The words had the same definition but the meaning had completely changed.

Gabriel knew he couldn't love her like Ash did; maybe that was better, or worse. He wasn't sure anymore.

"Is that so hard to believe?" He asks her, his gravelly voice chafes at her spine and she rubs her arms as if she were cold. She can't look at him and she turns away.

"I... it's not possible." She says so sure of herself, disbelief still wrapped around her like a scratchy blanket.

"That I'm capable of love?" He bites back at her and she stiffens visibly, her discomfort evident. He can't help himself, he enjoys watching her squirm, even if he can't see her face.

"You should go." She says quickly, sniffling and hiding herself from him. Normally, it's he who sends her away. But he'll not go. Not when he has come so close. Not when he's laid bare all that he holds dear at her feet.

Gabriel shadows her, takes her shoulders in his hands and she shivers under his warm touch. She can still taste his abrupt kiss from minutes ago, the crispness of it still tantalizing her mouth.

He's temptation and sin and she wants to burn.

This isn't healthy, it is impaired and barely breathing.

"You're everything, Michael." He tells her, still unable to stop himself from speaking the words, articulating them isn't easy but, Christ, he can't stop.

"I'm an obsession. A selfish, compulsive delusion." She rebuts, but it only fuels his fire. Her unwavering belief he couldn't really love her. He knows what she's thinking, _this isn't logical._

"Look at me, Michael." He whispers, it's not a command but he's ready to make it one if she continues to be so elusive. The Demon is hungry. He watches the back of her head, she doesn't have to say the word "no", she simply stands her ground firmly.

Tightening his grip on her she flinches but not from pain.

"Look. At. Me." He says, the grit in his voice distinct.

"No." She says, finally audibly, but it's through clenched teeth that the word seeps out of her.

And the Demon has its day.

"Fine," he hisses into her ear. "You want to think you're nothing but a whore, I'll treat you like one."

Her fear is evident when he uses his knife to cut the back of her shift in half, she feels the metal even if it doesn't touch her. She knows what it will feel like when it stabs into her flesh, it will feel like him.

Michael doesn't know where his weapon disappears to, but his hands find their home inside the ruined cloth of her shift; they're as they always are, rough and crushing as he moulds her against his chest. She breathes out, hating her body, her biology for being so easily swayed by this man.

As if there were a link tethering them together between stars, galaxies and universes. She hated it and relished in it.

Gabriel moves one hand to the back of her neck, shuddering when she tenses.

He utters one word,

"Walk." He directs her to the bed and as she draws closer to it she realizes she won't fight him. She tries to make herself but she can't.

He bends her over, shoving the remaining tattered fabric up her thighs, yanking her ass against his hips, against his hardened manhood.

"My followers think you've made me soft," he tells her and she hears him unbuckling his belt. "What do you think?"

Michael doesn't know if he expects an answer so she doesn't respond. This is it, so much for boundaries when he has her face down in her bed. He's never taken her here. She can't help but feel the tingle of anticipation when she feels him hard against her, the way he slides her underwear aside. The way her body naturally responds to him without him even caressing her most intimate parts.

The sweat gathers between her breasts and she wishes he would touch them, she aches so deeply for him that it makes her think she's gone mad. How could she desire a man like him?

What was that old saying about love and hate? That they were intimately locked together in a never ending fight, where was the line truly drawn? He loved her beyond measure and reason, she hated him for being the only man capable of awakening and unleashing the darkness inside of her.

Had it always been there, waiting for him?

"I want you." She suddenly says without prompting.

"You don't need to lie." He snaps, raising her onto her knees, further onto the bed, behind her. She reaches back faster than he can react, taking his hand and bringing it to her front, between her legs.

Michael surprises him yet again, turning her head to look at him, moving onto her knees and pressing her back against his heaving chest.

"I'm not." She promises. His eyes search her for the truth behind her charade.

Gabriel allows her to move his hand against her slippery entrance and they moan together. He doesn't know what's real or what's not. This wasn't his dead Michael seducing him. It was Michael Burnham the mutineer who sacrificed herself to his Demon.

"Fuck me." She begs him against his lips as he touches her clit, his blunt fingers creating a tide pool of ecstasy within her. "I don't want to fight it anymore."

Gabriel moves inside of her and she collapses against his chest before regaining her strength. He's so big inside of her, so powerful and raw. He's penetrating not just her body, but her soul. He has taken everything from her now and she can't fault him entirely; she let him in.

She's limp and willing but he holds her up anyway. He's like a fleshy pillar against her, raising her up. He said he'd treat her like a whore but he's putting her pleasure first. He's holding himself back, she knows he's not giving her his entire all.

Michael wants to tell him that she won't break but she's already submitted so much. She knows she's blushing as he takes her. It's only their second time together but it feels like the first.

Gabriel's face is directly next to hers, his mouth hovering beside hers, lips parted. His eyes are on fire and she wants him to devour her.

"You're incredible." He whispers, shakenly. She believes him, she wants him to say it again.

"I..." She can't finish the sentence, she doesn't even know where it would lead or how it would sound; she doesn't know if it would be the truth or a lie.

Gabriel reacts to it quickly, thrusts his hips so hard it rocks her forward and it almost hurts.

"Don't." He tells her, as if he doesn't want her to say it. He can believe she wants what he can offer to her body but doesn't believe that she'll say the words. Gabriel holds her still, his punishment couples with his need to protect her even if it's from herself.

"What are you doing to me?" She asks, bewildered and intoxicated.

"I don't know anymore."

There was nothing more to say. When the verbal silence was met by more silence all that was left were the sounds of their sexes pushing against one another and their heavy breathing.

Michael didn't know where one began and the other ended. It was true, they were one. She had never felt so connected to one person before; she knew what he was thinking and feeling. It was terrifying to feel so close to one person, to be so intimately linked to another human being. She knew what every moan and grunt meant. She knew he liked being close to her when they had sex.

That he preferred sex that wasn't planned but spontaneous. She knew he wanted to be dominant, that he needed to be in control. And that was fine. She was willing to relinquish control, but _only_ to him.

Gabriel stops abruptly, propping himself up with a hand on the bed. She's weak and tired but doesn't want to stop, she can't find it in herself to stop. He wants to ask if she's okay but he doesn't. He hates to but he removes herself from her and she clenches her legs on his retreat.

"Come here." His voice is coarse and tingling. She doesn't know how much closer he could want her to be. He rolls her onto her back and slides her ruined shift off her body. He undresses, his cock is engorged and he's shaking.

Michael doesn't anticipate his next move, it's shocking and so in character for him she doesn't know how she didn't see it coming.

On her back he parts her legs, her knees are bent, her feet on the bed.

Gabriel leans over her, kissing her neck and down her breasts. It feels like he's worshipping her, silently praying, giving thanks for her sweetness and all that she's given to him. She watches him as he pays homage to her. Michael's breath hitches when he closes his lips around one taut nipple, the room is dim but she sees him clearly. The outline of his hard, muscular body makes her quiver.

And then he is drifting lower, his mouth on her belly, her hips and before she knows what's happening or what to think his mouth is on her cunt. She's startled but doesn't push him away. She does look down at him to watch this new experience. His tongue glides up and down her slit and she shivers with each pass of his tongue.

Just when Michael thinks he's shown her all she needs to know he surprises her yet again. But he can't help himself. His Michael had already known everything she needed to know about fucking. But this Michael was an untapped river of possibilities. He didn't want to turn her into his own personal sex puppet, that's never who she was or who he wanted her to be.

Gabriel only wanted to show her how wonderful it could be to let go. And here she was, letting go and hanging on all at once.

She tastes glorious, indescribable and sweet. A gentle blend of raw feminine perfection and untamed beauty. He finds religion in the apex of her thighs.

" _P_... please." She whimpers, her voice is brittle. She's on the verge of snapping. He wants her to. He finds her hand while his other stimulates her into euphoria.

He's so fucking hard watching her cum from his mouth and fingers might be his unholy undoing. He's thankful he can't jerk himself off while he gives her this.

 _That's it, darlin', find your little death,_ he thinks darkly.

And Michael certainly does, under his strict and unyielding guidance. She's shaking and almost pushing him away but she can't entirely bring herself to. The pleasure is too much, bordering on painful but she can't help herself. She wants the pain as much as she wants the pleasure.

"Gabriel..." She says, so quietly that it's barely a sound at all. He says nothing, only moans as softly as she does. He feels her cum on his tongue and he soothes her gently back to earth. He sits back to watch the aftershocks rock her body, rubbing his palm over her belly.

"How...?" She mumbles, but he only kisses her forehead.

"Don't ask how." He tells her.

She feels him at her entrance again but this time she shakes her head and he lets her move on top of him and she guides him into her. It's in this moment she's most like her counterpart: insatiable.

Michael has never been some uptight goody-two-shoes in need of a filthy fuck. Not that the thought had never crossed his mind, but that's never been her. But to see her so unkempt and disconnected shook him. This wasn't _his_ Burnham. This was his _Michael_. A woman he had needed for a plan to take back what was his, to avenge someone he loved and lost.

But she had become so much more. During their time on _Discovery_ , he had grown to care for her more than he could have ever imagined. His need to protect Michael because he saw her as an asset changed rapidly to a desire to see her unharmed because he truly cared. He had fallen for her, not because her physical appearance reminded him daily of his dead lover, but because he wanted to change for her.

Even now as he roughly made love to her he wanted nothing more than to be the man she had thought he was all along.

And the idea she might find a way to escape frightens him. He has to keep her here, even if she's given herself to him fully he can't be sure she'll never stop wanting to return to her universe.

The thought is striking and horrid but the Demon in him has taken over. Who knows if it will actually take but in that moment he believes it will. It's pure madness, she would hate him forever. More than she hates him now. He's weak and pathetic and a coward.

Gabriel binds his hands to her hips, guiding them both to their end. He'll finish inside her, maybe then his plan will take shape. A conception born out of a need to retain her, have her by his side as his queen, ruling with him and not just beside him.

Michael is ignorant of his intentions, lost in a sea of countless feelings she cannot fully comprehend. And when he realizes he's wrong, that he can't do this, it's too late and she's reached her peak a third time. He means to pull away but he can't, the Demon has them both in its grasp now.

Gabriel cums inside of her, plants her firmly down on him and beating wildly into her he loses his own breath in the process and quite possibly his mind.

When it's over and she's asleep, exhausted but beside him, he can't find sleep as he thought he might. He's too guilt ridden. He thinks that perhaps it won't take, even if it does he'll put an end to it before it can become anything more than cells and atoms floating in a womb; not a life, just a thing.

But something tells him it will take root. That a child will eventually grow inside her. That she'll stay with him because of it. And he knows if he was weak enough to entrap her this way he's weak enough to see it come to fruition.

Gabriel can't stand the warm feel of her arms, so trusting and giving. He leaves her without waking her to say goodbye. He needs to be free and himself again. She's done this to him. She's forced him to doubt everything he's ever known.

On his way back to his quarters he scratches at his clothing, at his skin. She's buried deep in him now.

 _What have I done?_


	11. XI

XI

When Michael wakes she's alone and she's grateful for the solitude. Logic dictates they talk, but logic was useless in a world like this. She showers and redresses. She's calmer than she thought she would be.

He had come to her to discuss boundaries, then everything quickly spun out of control. The truth was, Michael didn't know if she cared for him. He occupies her thoughts constantly and yet she schemes to escape him. Her mind tells her to dissuade his advances, but she willingly crumbles under his touch.

Lorca is everything she should and does despise. He's arrogant, xenophobic, the dark side to the warrior, a black knight, rogue. The man is beholden to none. Except her.

She wants him to be better because she's seen him be better; but she reminds herself that was all an act. Inside he was a manic, tyrannical, egotistical dictator.

He was also a contradiction. Why put himself in danger time and time again with _Discovery_ and the crew? Perhaps it was only coincidence that a war was raging in her universe when he arrived; but he never attempted to hide in the shadows, he threw himself to the very front of the line.

Lorca had to of known there was a decent chance he could've died. But he fought their war anyway.

Landry arrives for their walk, today Michael requested her presence. It was a change of routine, for both women. But Ellen Landry was the closest person, Michael deduced, that could give her some insight into the real Gabriel Lorca.

"I had hoped we could speak in private." Michael comments, Landry has her own men with her. The other woman glances at her armed guards and gestures with her head, they hang back affording the two women their privacy.

"Thank you." Michael says and she takes notice of Landry's almost shocked expression. Apologies and gratefulness are foreign concepts to these Terran people.

"How long have you known, Lorca?" Michael asks, refraining from saying his first name, she didn't want to make this intimately personal. Landry smirks.

"Since the beginning," Landry tells her, proud and thoughtful. "He's saved my ass plenty of times."

"Were you his first follower?" Michael asks.

"One of them, yes." Landry looks at her then, almost as if she's planted herself within a memory long ago. It's then that Michael realizes the first follower must have been her own counterpart. She sighs.

"I'm not that Burnham." Michael reminds Landry, though the other woman needs no reminding.

"Of course you're not," Landry says with a scoff. "The Burnham I knew would've escaped by now."

Michael feels the bite in her words but brushes it off. It seems any Landry from any universe was combative when it came to any Michael Burnham.

"Have you slept together yet?" Landry boldly asks, her tone light as if she's talking about the weather. Michael blushes and clears her throat nervously. "Don't be shy. I don't care either way." Landry adds with a shrug.

"Then why ask?" Michael shoots back at her, which affords her a coy smile from the other woman.

"You're sharp like her I'll give you that." Landry compliments.

"What is the state of the empire?"

"Why should I tell you?"

Michael halts and turns to face Landry, the other guards stop as well at their distance.

"Because if I'm going to spend the rest of my life here I want to know exactly what I got myself into."

Landry narrows her eyes at her.

"You should have thought of that before you signed your life away." Landry says before continuing to walk. Michael follows without hesitation.

"There's talk," Landry says quietly. "That the lion is not as he was."

Michael catches on quickly; of course, she realizes, that Landry cannot openly talk of the state of the empire without causing more gossip to squirm it's way through the _Charon_.

"The pride is restless." Landry says meaningfully, glancing at the faces that walk past them. Michael nods. "But the _queen_ can rally her cubs, by a show of force." Landry glances at her out of the corner of her eye and Michael looks at her. Their walk continues in silence. The subtext is clear as day.

Michael understands, the weight of what Landry has said falls onto her shoulders. She doesn't know why she willingly accepts the responsibility.

It's hours later when Michael goes to Lorca again, he's finished a meeting with his generals. Landry is there and passes her without a look.

He doesn't look at her right away.

"I've spoken to Landry," Michael says when the doors slide close. "I think I know what I must do now."

Lorca comes around his desk and stands before her. He looks like he hasn't slept. She wants to ask him if he is alright but she can't bring herself to, not yet.

"And what is that?" He asks her slowly.

"I want to sit in on your next meeting with your generals." She says, her chin held high, looking the part of a young queen more than ever.

"What has Landry told you?" He asks her, his hands in his pockets.

"That your followers now doubt you. That they are restless and weary. You must show your strength." She tells him. He sighs deeply and looks to the viewing screen, ships coming and going, lives unsure of their leader.

She makes it look so easy, makes it sound so effortless.

"You told me last night I didn't always have to be strong." He tells her, low and rough. Michael comes to his side, taking his hand and he stiffens. But she holds firmly. She can't let him lose himself to his own doubts, not now.

"You don't, not alone." She says and she doesn't know when she had slipped into this new life or where this new Michael began or ended, but she needed purpose. Perhaps with her guidance they could steer this empire to a better path. It was a beautiful dream.

"They won't see it our way." He says. Michael takes his face in her hands.

"Then we will make them see it."

"You realize what you're asking me to do?"

Michael pauses for a moment, looking into his eyes. They're glassy, tired. She already sees the weight of ruling his empire beginning to age him. If he had been paranoid of being assassinated as a glorified foot soldier for the previous emperor, what was _being_ the emperor doing to him now?

"You don't have to shed any blood to prove a point." Michael says wisely.

Gabriel moves away from her, her hands falling to her sides. She frowns. Something is wrong. Something else besides the shuddering of the empire. Something other than Landry's concerns.

"What's wrong?" Michael asks him.

"I... I don't know who I am." He tells her, but that's the whole story. "I thought when I came back- when I had you- that everything would be as it was. But it's not."

Michael feels a pang in her heart, she feels... sorry for him. But she won't show it. He would know and he would resent her. She didn't love him... but there was something growing inside her heart for him.

"What do you want?" She asks him. He looks at her over his shoulder and sighs, a small smile playing at his lips.

"To go home."


	12. XII

XII

"We should blow the bastards out of the sky and be done with it!" General Tusk says passionately. The others nod their heads in agreement, Michael watches on, her place a the round table is at Gabriel's side. She has remained quiet and observant throughout and it churns the men and women at the table.

They had all earned their seat at Gabriel's table, she had simply dropped in.

"Letting them live will only causes more bloodshed and rebellion," a woman, General Raithe, says.

"Killing them will only martyr them." Michael says finally speaking up. At his place, Gabriel subtly smirks.

Tusk rises, his fists on the table.

"And what the hell do you know, _Star-Fleet_?" He hisses at her. Gabriel doesn't come to her defense. She wanted to be here and see what his war room and generals were really like. She had to stand on her own two feet.

"I know that eventually all empires fall." She says, her voice even and her resolve unshaken.

"That talk is treason!" Tusk shouts, aghast and red faced and the other generals agree.

"Facts are not treason, General Tusk," Michael reminds him. "Perhaps you must be reminded of your place."

Tusk kicks his chair behind him, others reach for their phasers.

"I did not kill and claw to where I am now to have some bed warming slut tell me of my place!" The words leave his mouth, a deafening silence follows. Then Tusk incinerates before her very eyes, a look of shock and betrayal written across his face as he disappears from existence.

Michael looks to her side as Gabriel lowers his phaser. He stands, his back straight.

"He made a fatal error I hope none of you will repeat," he begins calmly. "My wish is to broker peace with the rebels. They are outnumbered and outgunned. We give into _minor_ demands and we have them under our thumb." He says and he waits for objection but doesn't hear any.

Michael is shaking, ready to be sick.

"Dismissed." He says, his flicks the air with his hand and the generals begin to rise. "Oh," he says suddenly, taking Michael's hand in his own. "If _anyone_ has anything more to say about my lady they can come to me personally with their grievance."

Once more there is no objection, Gabriel's threat heavy in the air with the scent of once was General Tusk. Michael had told him he needed to show his strength, he was sure his point was made.

The generals depart, shocked and put back in their place.

When they are alone Michael tears her hand from his, the show over.

"You didn't have to kill him," she says, a hand over her eyes, weakly falling back into her chair.

"Of course I did. I stopped believing in his worth a long time ago." He tells her, holstering his phaser.

Michael shakes her head.

"Don't kill for me." She says, but it sounds like a weak threat. He takes her hand again and pulls her back to her feet.

"As long as they don't give me a reason, I won't." He kisses her knuckles and strokes her cheek.

Michael meets Landry later in her quarters, the dark haired woman raises a hand to her lips as she enters alone. She goes to the bed, reaches under the foot and presses down then rises to her full height.

"There, now we're really alone." Landry says, Michael wants to challenge her for bugging her room but she can't. It's not really hers anyway so she files it away for later. "I believe I advised that you be the one to show force, not him."

Michael sighs heavily.

"I was attempting to-"

"It doesn't matter," Landry cuts in. "Don't _attempt_ simply do. It should've been you to kill Tusk."

Michael grinds her teeth together.

"I'm not from here. I cannot take a life with provocation. Without a reason." Michael argues. Landry rolls her dark eyes and takes a step towards her.

"Every day your life is at risk, isn't that motive enough to kill whoever would try to end you first?" Landry asks. Michael shakes her head.

"I can't be this person you want me to be." Michael says.

Landry suddenly rears back and strikes Michael in the face, the younger woman doubles back in defense and when Landry attempts to land her next blow Michael has already kicked her feet out from under her.

A light foot lands on Landry's sternum and the Terran smirks, out of breath. Michael leans down to help her to her feet.

"It can happen as fast and as without warning as that," Landry tells her, warningly. "You must be prepared."

"Why do you care?" Michael asks, she feels Landry's hand tighten around her own.

"I _care_ about Gabriel. He cares about you. Why do you think he chose me to guard you?"

Michael lets out a light breath.

"He could trust you to keep me safe." Michael says and Landry's nod affirms that.

"Every day there is a plot to end your life, Michael Burnham of Star-Fleet. And every day you are my responsibility. It is not just potential bed warmers who would seek to overthrow you but those who know your end would be pain for Gabriel. You are a weakness to him."

The words are heavy on Michael, she never wanted this, any of this. But Landry was right, Michael hadn't known what she was signing up for when she agreed to stay in this hell in exchange for _Discovery's_ safety. What had she been expecting?

Michael feels Landry's hand on her arm, a show of comradery but not friendship.

"But you don't have to be," the woman tells her. "That is why you must show them you are strong enough to stand alone without him. The others knew where they stood in line when it came to the dead Burnham. You are a foreigner to them. All they know is that your values do not meet evenly with their own."

Michael nods and Landry leaves her, giving the younger woman something to ponder. When Gabriel comes to her that night she knows she must show her strength not only to his followers but to him.

He sits on the edge of the bed removing his boots when she moves behind him to rub his shoulders. He stiffens at the gesture but eventually relaxes.

"What do you want?" He asks after a time, seeing through her kindness. The thing was, Michael did want him to feel comfortable and relaxed. The strain of running the empire was showing on him greatly. She couldn't find her place and escape and hopefully save him in the process if he were too fatigued to try.

"Can't a consort comfort her partner?" She asks him coyly. She can't see his face but Michael knows he's smirking. He relaxes further against her.

"Seeing as you've never done this before I can't help but wonder what your motives are." He replies, his voice calm and even restful.

"Call it a double play," she says and he laughs. "I want to be your broker when it comes to dealing with the rebels."

Gabriel turns slightly to look at her.

"I convinced them once before." She reminds him and he shakes his head.

"They won't trust you again. Not after the emperor showed up and killed them all."

Michael nods, she had predicted this.

"True. But that is why I must try harder. Give them some proof that I come in peace."

Gabriel meanders, as if trying to think of an excuse. It seems he can't find one, not when she smells so sweet and soothes his aching muscles with her delicate yet capable hands. He can't help but let his mind wander to what else those hands can achieve.

He turns back, removing his shoes.

"Is something wrong?" She asks him behind his ear. He shivers as her breath tickles the hairs on the back of his neck.

"Why?" He asks.

"We... haven't been together in weeks. Have I displeased you?" She asks, insecurely. He shakes his head.

"It's not you that I am displeased with." He says vaguely. Michael frowns, she can't figure him out.

And he hates himself for what he has done. It's still too early to tell if she's pregnant or not. And if he could be completely honest with her- which he feels he cannot for fear it would set her apart from him- the reason he doesn't want her to play diplomate to a bunch of rebels is because she could be pregnant. On top of his unwavering love for her, he cannot put her in danger for either reason.

But Gabriel knows she won't stop until she has achieved what she wants. Whether that be escape or finding purpose in his world.

"And I thought you wouldn't be angry for not having my paws on you." He says coldly, rising to remove his shirt. He can push her away, make her hate their time together. Make her hate him. Or at least force her to keep him at arms length. He had tried that before himself, it had been torture. Perhaps it will come easier for her.

Michael rises to her knees on the bed, his back still to her, he throws his shirt somewhere.

"Something is wrong and you won't tell me." She says directly and he rubs a hand over his face, missing the way her hands massaged his shoulders and neck.

"Let it go." He bites back at her. He hears her move, then her hands are wrapping around him, resting on his chest and he groans inwardly. He tells himself she doesn't mean it, that she's only trying to get what she wants. He's so fucking tempted to just give in.

"Is there someone else?" She asks him, her lips moving against his bare back. The idea she would think- well, he's now given her little reason to think otherwise. And she remembers what Landry had said, that it wasn't just other bed warmers wanting her out of the picture. He had been a womanizer in her universe as well as his own, maybe someone got to him already?

"Don't talk such nonsense." He says, his voice monotone.

"Then tell me what I have done to make you so disgusted by me." She's commanding it, not asking, not requesting. He wants to tell her it's not her fault, that he's disgusted by only himself.

Gabriel wants to tell her that since he met her he's thought less and less of his dead Burnham and that he hates himself for that too. He had vowed never to love again and he fell for Michael before he knew it. And that loving her was different in all the ways it ever could be from loving her Terran counterpart.

That he's torn between two women even now when one was dead.

"Stop pretending to care." He says, leaving the warmth and care of her arms, removing his trousers and getting into the bed. Michael stands there dumbly, shaking. "Are you joining me or not?" He snaps. He watches her back straighten and she turns with a blank look on her face.

Michael does join him, pulling back the sheet and lying on her back.

"Make it quick." She orders him.

Instead he faces away from her, forcing them both to suffer. Minutes tick by into nothingness. He can almost feel the first moments of sleep begin to take him when he feels her plant a kiss to his shoulder, over an old scar. He closes his eyes, he won't give in again. He can't.

He had killed a man for her today and now he won't touch her. She knew from common sense most men were not so complicated. But Gabriel Lorca had never been like most men.

Michael makes one last attempt and with a gentle hand forces him to roll over onto his back, he gives in.

"You're wrong," she tells him softly, he squints at her through the darkness. "I do care."

Before he can rebut her she kisses him soundly. Gabriel thought the demon he hid away and fought every day was himself, but he was quickly realizing that maybe his demon had been her all along. Haunting him through time and space, never letting up and never letting go.

Gabriel has no words as she moves on top of him, pressing herself so close to him either can barely breathe. But he doesn't care. He feels her shyly wriggle her center against him and he groans roughly into her mouth, steadying his hands on her hips. She could be with child, she might not... the Demon wants its pound of flesh.

He leans back to look at her and sighs.

"Don't fall in love with me." He warns her and she tests his limits once more, slipping her hand between them to grope at his hard cock. He hisses through his teeth and the hand on her hip tightens to the point of strain and bruising.

"I won't." She answers before kissing him again and he truly does give in. But he wants to tell her he's heard her say those words before; that another Burnham had promised never to love him, that she told him love was pointless and obsolete in their world. But he won't tell her that. Because he does know this Michael could never love him.

Michael plants him inside of her and he feels like he's reached the closest to heaven he'll ever get; because for a man like himself he knows he'll never go to such a paradise. There is no nirvana waiting for him, no promised land or after life where he is in restful peace.

There is only hell waiting for him. But at least now, in his waking life, he can taste heaven but a little.

Gabriel believes she enjoys the physical stimuli he brings her but he pretends she does it out of love and devotion. He pretends she would die for him if he asked. He pretends she has never known a love like his before and never will again. Pretending makes it easier in the moment, for then he can lose himself and live in the fantasy; but when it's over he knows he'll remember she does not love him, that she detests him and hates him with all her being.

Little does Gabriel Lorca know that with each passing day she grows to care for him more. Even in his state of coldness she only longs to make him see the good in himself. That he's capable of good things because she has seen it. And in those moments _she_ pretends too.

Michael pretends they're on _Discovery_ , that she never met or fell in love with Ash Tyler. That Lorca never was Terran, that he was a battle worn officer of Starfleet she fell in love with. She pretends they're in his officer's quarters, that they're having an affair and no one cares. She pretends he's the man she thought he was.

She imagines their first kiss, most likely in his lab where he studies war. She fantasizes she initiates it. That he tells her he can't and they shouldn't but she convinces him otherwise.

Michael loses herself also in that fantasy, neither daring to verbalize their illusions to the other.

It helps them both.

Gabriel rolls her onto her back, seizing control once more and she allows it. Holding her firmly to himself, his arms close in around her, she prepares herself for what's to come next. When his hips can't stop their near violent attack on her, when his cock reaches the deepest parts of her core, when he pants heavily into her neck and his chest rubs against her breasts, when she holds onto him for dear life, begging him to finish her off and wanting so badly that it would never end.

When she bites his shoulder when she cums, marking him as _**hers**_.


	13. XIII

XIII

 _Michael was running, the forest was dense and the trees that looked like fingers were beginning to close in on her. The howl of the beast hunting her cut through the chilly darkness. Her legs felt like they were trapped in water, she was being dragged down somewhere dark and terrible. The forest was gone, replaced by a black space that frightened the hell out of her. There was nothing, an obsidian void._

 _Hands took hold of her shoulders, she couldn't see his face but he was there. Present, ever present, everywhere. She didn't want him to touch her but she couldn't escape his claws gripping and tearing into her._

 _His mouth was covered in something wet, she could smell the copper everywhere in the darkness. She was lifted and put down on something cold and solid, an altar. He was going to kill her, sacrifice her. He was on top of her and below her and beside her; a dozen Hims all around her, she couldn't escape him._

 _His pale body morphed as one into hers. She felt his clawed hand on her neck, abnormally large and biting into her neck drawing blood._

 _This is how it ends... with him killing her._

Michael awakes with a start, the room is quiet and warm; the _Charon_ is humming with life. He's behind her, holding her near but not tightly. She frees herself from him, she's sore between her legs and it's not entirely unwelcome to her in a queer way. She's grown used to it, familiar with it.

In the bathroom she washes her face, she doesn't know the time, doesn't check. He's still asleep which means it's probably still night. It's now that Michael realizes she's grown used to the light, the way it has no glow is now customary. And then she misses her universe all the more when she comes to the conclusion she has become too acclimated to the one around her.

Looking through the entrance into the bedroom from the bathroom, Lorca had rolled over onto his back, his hand searching for her even in his sleep. She felt herself smiling, she didn't know why. Her nightmare was almost forgotten until his pale body being eclipsed by the dark sheets brought her dream to the forefront of her mind.

That white demon from her nightmare, the claw-like hooks and the blood. He sits up, his eyes half open. He looks completely harmless to her now.

"Michael?" He says, his voice rough from sleep. She can't help herself, she goes to him, pulls his arm over her and resumes her place with her back to his chest. He sighs against her neck, nuzzles it warmly, but he isn't coming onto her. She closes her eyes, memorizing the moment forever.

This is a moment she won't pretend they're back on _Discovery,_ she stays right here with him. Silently, quietly, lovingly. And she knows she'll never let go of this moment as long as she lives.

The new face of the rebellion isn't new at all. She's relieved and saddened to see him. Culbar's face isn't as soft as it had been in his other life, in her universe. He is hardened, a full beard and longer hair. His voice is still the same, as are some of his mannerisms. He still remains gentlemanly and formal to her, but his eyes are untrustworthy.

"You understand my need for security," Culbar says, his own heavily armed men have his back. Landry is with Michael along with faces that are also familiar to her now. They are Tig and Hancy.

Before the meeting both sides had agreed to small landing parties.

Michael tilts her head lightly.

"As you understand mine." She replies conversationally. She swallows, drinks her water and wishes the odious headache would go away.

She's been tense when she should be calm. It's not so much the meeting itself that is making her feel this way, she's been on edge for days. Acting irrational and irritable.

If Culbar has noticed he hasn't said anything.

"Why should I believe your story?" Culbar asks. "Why should I believe the word of a dictator's... paramour?"

Landry tenses with her finger on the trigger of her weapon. Michael isn't intimidated by him. She had gone over every possible insult he could hurl at her. At least he was man enough not to call her a whore. That's where Tusk had gone wrong in the end.

"I have proof," Michael removes Philippa's insignia from her pocket, sliding it across the table. "You'll see it's from my universe alone. There's no way to fake it." Culbar takes the insignia and hands it off to one of his men.

They've met on rebel territory.

"We also know this location as one of your many bases. And we promise, as a show of good faith, not to harm you." She assures but Culbar seems unconvinced.

"My leader, Voq, sent me a transmission telling me you had said the same thing. And now he is dead, along with our prophet and many more." Culbar says.

The memory of the other Sarek strikes a deep, emotional cord with Michael. She hadn't thought of Sarek and Amanda since she decided to remain here. She believes it was a subconscious effort.

How were they getting on...? Did they mourn her back home?

Landry seems to notice the silence, Michael's lack of response. She clears her throat, bringing Michael back to reality.

"The empire is currently at a stand still, we cannot move forward unless we unite in some way." Michael explains, Culbar watches her carefully. His man returns with the insignia, confirming what Michael has told him. He doesn't seem as shocked as she believed he would be.

"What do I get out of this besides your good faith? How do I know Lorca hasn't brainwashed you?" Culbar asks. Michael sighs.

"I'm not brainwashed. I am my own person. I have been given the assurance that Lorca will give in to some of your demands as proof that we mean what we say."

"That you... _come in peace_." Culbar says, his voice cynical and he clicks his tongue. She can't blame him, she really can't. He looks slightly over his shoulder at his two men, they make no movement at first until they look to each other and nod. Landry readies herself for a fight.

It doesn't happen.

"Stop targeting civilian hospitals and families," Culbar says first and Michael remembers her childhood immediately. She can see the Klingons now at her dinner table, her parents dead and murdered; only now they are replaced by Terran soldiers. Gabriel laughing over the bodies of dead parents with Landry at his side.

"Done." Michael answers in a clipped tone, her stomach turns and she feels herself beginning to perspire.

"We want safe passage to supply colonies, our people cannot unite when we're starving." Culbar says secondly. Michael again nods, but afraid if she opens her mouth she will be sick.

"Medical supplies is greatly needed, we need the appropriate tools. We need doctors who are trained to deal with the kinds of injuries we see on a daily basis." Culbar goes on. She closes her eyes for a moment, he's opened his mouth to speak but stops, frowning.

"Are you alright?" Culbar asks and she tries to excuse herself, attempting to get to her feet but she stumbles.

Both Culbar and Landry reach out to her.

The room begins to spin.

All she sees though is Gabriel killing her father and raping her mother... it's not the Klingons anymore. It's him... it's the monster from her nightmare.

"Michael!" She hears a voice say her name but she falls and the world darkens.

When she comes to she's hooked up to an archaic iv drip. She blinks a few times and tries to sit up. Landry comes to her, her weapon is gone. She pushes Michael back by her shoulder.

"Rest," she orders, handing her a cantine. Michael sips slowly. Culbar is holding a rough looking tablet.

"Dehydration." Michael concludes and Landry confirms it.

"Doc here says you need more fluids." Landry explains and the younger woman rubs her sore neck.

"It seems in my attempt to be strong I will be seen as weak." She says quietly, so only Landry can hear her, but the Terran woman shakes her head.

"On the contrary. I think you showed your mettle in your own way, Star-Fleet." Landry touches her shoulder for firmly once more, then stands. They are not friends, Landry is a far cry from Tilly, but there is an understanding growing between the two women.

One Michael is strangely grateful for. She will not deny that she had enjoyed the friendship Tilly had brought into her life on _Discovery,_ she had even felt a bond between herself and Stamets growing. The hope that perhaps one day she and Saru would also mend their broken ties had not seemed so far fetched.

But now she was forced to co mingle with the enemy and learn to, if not be friends, then at least use her position to her advantage. She was his consort, his lady in waiting and his queen- as strange as it was, that was her place now. His followers knew it and were growing accustomed to it.

Even Lorca's enemies now knew her as representing this new regime. There had been little to no bloodshed since his usurpation, not including the annihilation of most of Georgiou's followers.

And many attributed it to her, he had been very different when it came to dealing with his foes before her arrival; and all knew the wrath of her counterpart well.

This universe was changing, Landry let it be known it had more to do with Michael's presence than she was willing to give credence to.

Upon her return to the _Charon,_ Lorca requested her but the message was vague when he was routinely more direct. She figured he heard of her fainting spell. She goes, tired and her walk slow. Landry leaves her to it on her own.

When she walks in something immediately feels wrong. She pauses, two feet from the door, she was midway removing her scarf when a strong arm wrapped around her throat from behind. She was fast enough to slip a hand between the arm and her scarf. She was choking but it wouldn't be as quick, she bought herself seconds.

Lorca hadn't provided her with a weapon yet, her eyes shot around the quarters looking for a one. Thankfully, the whole room served as a self defense playground. Michael swung her body, using her momentum, forcing her weight back onto her assailant sending them both through the glass coffee table.

She heard her attacker gasp against her neck, weakly they released her. She scrambled to Lorca's desk, finding his phaser and pointing it at none other than Cross. He was rising to feet, rubbing his back and staring at her as if she were a piece of meat.

"You won't shoot me," he says confidently. There is knocking at the door, voices, Cross must have disabled the door before attacking her. "Come on. Just you and me, Star-Fleet."

Michael scoffs at him.

"You really think I'd give up the phaser for hand to hand combat?" She asks him.

"I figured you wouldn't be a coward and kill me with your bare hands instead." He taunts.

The door opens a few inches and Cross' face changes to panic. Michael glances over her shoulder, she recognizes the furious blue eye looking through from the other side. This is the young man's reckoning.

Michael slowly approaches Cross, her weapon still raised.

"You brought this on yourself." She tells him, her eyes fixed on him. The door opens another inch.

Cross gulps and is shaking.

"Please, just kill me." He begs, he can't take his frantic eyes off of Lorca's ever emerging form. Michael feels sorry for him. Her lover won't go easy on the man, he'll make it last. Maybe she should put him out of his misery.

"Your life is not mine or yours now." Michael says sadly.

"Oh god." Cross says as Lorca manages to get his body halfway through the door.

"You son of a whore!" Lorca hisses at him.

Cross lunges at Michael as Lorca comes through the rest of the way, the younger man is holding the phaser to his head but his leader simply knocks it out of his hand. Wrapping his other hand around the young cub's neck he shoves him to his knees.

"You fucking coward." Lorca breathes darkly, dragging the man from the room by his throat.

"Stop!" Michael says suddenly, she watches Lorca's back stiffen, Landry is seen on the other side waiting for his orders. Michael comes to stand over Cross, he's choking around the expansive grip on his throat.

"I'm sorry." Michael says kindly, she sees Lorca's hand visibly relax and Cross inhales a little better. Rising and turning away Lorca hands him over to Landry.

The coffee table is in pieces and she side steps it, picking up the phaser and setting it back on his desk, exhaling shakingly. Lorca comes up behind her, gently touching the middle of her back, she turns and buries her face in his chest.

"Now I see how my actions have affected your followers," she says, her voice shaken but not weak.

"I think you've made more of an impact just now than you realize," he says, cupping her face. "Are you hurt?"

Michael shakes her head.

"I'm fine." She assures him and he kisses her softly, resting his cheek to hers. She hears his chortle and she pulls back to look at him. "What?"

"I can hear it now, Burnham the Merciful. And with peace talks underway it's only a matter of time before the rest of these fools see it our way. The demands weren't much."

At the mention of what the rebels had wanted in return she stiffens, he doesn't seem to notice as he turns away from her, requesting a clean up crew to come and dispose of the shattered coffee table.

Michael recalls what had caused her to suddenly faint during her meeting with Culbar... what she had been envisioning.

"What kind of soldier were you?" Michael asks him, pointedly. He frowns.

"What kind of question is that?"

"Did you kill children?"

Gabriel feels thrown by her question; where was this coming from? One minute she was warm in his arms and the next her voice biting into his throat like a savage. He crosses his arms over his chest.

"You want the truth? Yes. I've killed children."

Michael had told herself she should prepare for that answer, it floors her all the same.

"And..."

"Where is this coming from?" He asks her, over her own words but she's not deterred. He's trying to knock her off balance, trying to distract her from her train of thought.

" _And_ did you assault women?"

That answer takes longer than she likes but he's shaking his head.

"What the hell do you think I am?" He asks, he's hurt and disgusted she would accuse him of such a thing. "You... you think because I'm Terran I would rape and defile anything that came along?"

"No but-"

"But what? Where the fuck is this coming from? I nearly just lost you and all you can ask is if I'm a rapist?"

Michael chews her bottom lip. He throws his hands in the air, he rubs the bridge of his nose as if if in thought, attempting to control his anger. But she knows she's done more than anger him, she's hurt his feelings.

"Where is this coming from?" He asks again, his voice low.

"Meeting Culbar left me feeling hollow." She admits. "His first request was that no more children and families be targeted. It reminded me of my parents and how they were slaughtered by Klingons."

Lorca raises his eyes to her once more.

"They did horrible things to my mother and I had to listen in fear, helpless. And they laughed and went on with their lives as if my parents were nothing. I know you're not Klingons but... for a moment back there, talking to Culbar, I couldn't tell the difference between Terran and Klingon."

The clean up crew arrives after that, she dismisses herself and takes a shower in her quarters. Her comm announces someone's presence. She expects Lorca but instead it's Landry. She hands her a communicator.

"Does he know you're giving this to me?" Michael asks before taking the device.

"He had to convince me but he thinks you're ready. Don't get too excited, it will be monitored for the time being. And you'll rest easy knowing the bugs in your quarters have been removed."

Landry takes her leave after that, Michael sits on her bed holding the communicator. She feels a tear in her eye. And she finds herself hating that her first thought is to try to use it to contact _Discovery_ only to realize they're in another universe now. She opens it and places it on her night table.

Falling asleep, she doesn't dream of a nightmarish beast coming to kill her. Instead, she dreams of a beautiful starship taking her far away from this place. The beast isn't there, only a broken man who wants to go with her but something stops him. When she wakes she can't remember if the man joins her or stays in the hell he's made.


	14. XIV

XIV

"You need to know something," Landry begins, their dinner warm and fragrant. Michael has been assured by Gabriel that use of Kelpians as a food source has totally ceased. She knows it's steak... but her first meal in this place has left a bitter feeling of resentment inside of her that she silently carries with her each day.

"I'm sure there are plenty of things I should know but do not." Michael adds, forcing herself to eat though her appetite these days has shrunk.

Lorca is still angry at her; she had hoped the communicator had been a peace offering but it was almost complete radio silence from him. He relayed what she needed to know from him through Landry. Michael's professional relationship with Culbar was growing. They would send transmissions almost daily. And so far, Lorca has not gone back on his word.

The rebels have received treatment, food and medical supplies. Followers loyal to Lorca have volunteered to go to rebel bases to act as personal aids in various ways. And yet Michael is still on edge and Culbar can see it when they speak via visual transmission or even hear it in her voice when it's audio only. Her attempts to reassure him have not gone unnoticed. She hopes these talks will bring a better understanding to both sides.

"I don't suppose Gabriel has divulged much of his relationship to Burnham to you," Landry says, it's not a question. Michael curtly nods, chewing a small piece of meat. "Don't take it personally. He might as well of died with her."

Michael keeps her eyes fixed on the double sliding doors, hoping Lorca would join them. It feels wrong for anyone but him to speak of his love for Burnham.

"You must know he cares very strongly for you," Landry continues. "Despite you being the polar opposite."

Michael clears her throat, setting her knife and fork down.

"Where are you going with this?" She asks finally. Landry tilts her head.

"You've conquered one battle, forcing his followers and his opposition to see you as more than a piece of ass, if you excuse my bluntness."

With Landry, Michael appreciates her candid honesty. It's welcomed in this world where lies and deceit were as commonplace as breathing.

"You have also shown mercy," Landry says.

"Is that judgement I hear?" Michael quips and the other woman smiles.

"No. I applaud you, in fact."

That was a surprise. Michael couldn't deny that though she didn't trust Landry she at least found it refreshing that the woman had taken an interest in guiding her through the political intrigue that seemed to occupy every moment of Terran life.

"What is it that I must know that I do not?" Michael asks, steering them back on topic.

"Before Captain Burnham died she confided something in me," Landry clasps her fingers together in front of her. "Our relationship was tenuous, from the beginning. But through Gabriel we found common ground. She had no one else to turn to when she told me that..."

Michael had never seen either Landry from her own universe or her Terran self lost for words. It unnerved her.

"Yes?" Michael encouraged.

"She had _been_ pregnant," Landry finally says. "More than once. Both times she lost the fetus early. Gabriel never knew, or so she said but I have my own theories. After the second miscarriage she requested to see me. She told me that she feared it was the emperor who had been poisoning her pregnancies and in turn knew of her affair with Gabriel."

Landry let it sink in. Michael was trying to force it away. But once she heard it she could not unhear it. It made its home inside her, among the many broken pieces of information she had collected of Captain Burnham.

"Why are you telling me this?" Michael asks her, her appetite truly gone now.

"Because I suspect you are also pregnant."

Michael shoots her a look of disbelief and scoffs.

"You couldn't just know that." Michael says and Landry shrugs, going back to her own dinner.

"I'm just reading the signs." Landry defends.

 _Reading the- what?_

"You said you had your own theories, how could he have known if they were apart towards the end?" Michael inquires. She ignores the heavy rock in her stomach, just because Landry suspected she was pregnant didn't mean she was. She would think of that later.

"Because if the emperor were sabotaging Michael's pregnancies then she would've used that against him when she finally came after him when Captain Burnham was killed. I would. Twist the knife into the heart of your enemy, break them into nothing." Landry explains.

"I still fail to see why you're telling me this." Michael reminds her.

"I'm telling you because if you are pregnant, Michael, it's the last thing this empire- let alone Gabriel- needs right now."

There it was. Now she understood where Landry was going with this.

"It puts you and him in even more danger." Landry says strongly, Michael rises, clearing her plate. Her hands shake.

"I'm... I'm _not_ pregnant." Is all Michael can say.

"I want to make sure of that." She hears Landry say, her tone low and almost... sympathetic? No. Michael couldn't trust her, not in her old life and certainly not now.

"And if I am? Will you be as the emperor was and kill it?" Michael asks, she doesn't feel attacked or even threatened, it's a warning. And yet Michael has to force herself not to react as if she is already pregnant, because there's no proof she is. She forces the instinct to protect an unborn child away, refusing to give into the sentiment.

"I will do what is asked of me." Landry says, and Michael hears her cutting into the meat again.

"Perhaps you overestimate him," Michael says, turning back to face the Terran soldier. "He might encourage me to dispose of it."

Landry chuckles, shaking her head.

"Not likely. Lorca will want what is his."

Something about the way Landry says "his" and not "yours" ignites an anger in her. Her temper rises. She walks briskly towards Landry, snatching her plate away and placing it in the replicator.

"I would like you to leave now." Michael says, her hands are no longer shaking. Her anger is the calm before the storm.

"I hope I have given you something to think on." Landry says, rising, seemingly unfazed by Michael's outburst.

"You have. Goodnight." Michael answers, clipped.

It was clear. End the supposed pregnancy before anyone can find out. Protect yourself, protect him. True, she had been showing signs of irritability, tender breasts, loss and then sudden gain of appetite. She found herself craving beyond measure a traditional Vulcan soup she hadn't had since childhood. And she would never admit it out loud but she was ravenous for him now that he was away from her.

The lesson upon which Landry wished Michael to learn greatly from was loud and abundantly clear. But she had referred to the theoretical child as _belonging_ to Lorca, as if Michael fit in nowhere to the equation except as a bodily carrier and nothing more.

Michael supposed if Landry suggested on making sure she was or, she hoped, wasn't pregnant that the Terran had her own ways that wouldn't involve a talkative doctor who might out of loyalty to Lorca or to someone else choose to share the information.

She touches her belly, still leaning over the replicator. An heir to a vast and chaotic empire, ever changing and even now in a new found infantile state; the irony was evident and cruel.

What child could be raised in a place like this? That Terrans even reached adulthood or even middle age was a miracle. Would her child only live to Conners age or even younger?

In this moment, in a strange and confusing trick of the mind, she felt herself almost closer to Sarek than she ever had. Perhaps he had wondered similar things about herself.

This child could in one way be a curse and bring the empire to its already near crippling knees.

Or... the alternative. The child could act as the dawn of a new generation, a conduit between worlds. Terran and Starfleet ideals fused together as one. Sarek had once hoped for something that matched her own current quandary.

But the fact still remained, she didn't know if she was or wasn't.

Michael deduced Landry would have her own doctor or person ready to perform the simple test. However she herself had another idea.

Michael didn't tell Landry she was going to the surface; the planet they orbited was a small base compared to others. But Culbar was there. She took Hancy with her; she couldn't trust the younger, blonde woman but she was a familiar face. And frankly, Michael knew she could overpower her if it came to that.

"This is a surprise," Culbar says, showing her into his living space. It was cramped and cold and water trickled into a bucket on the floor. But the man seemed in better spirits than ever before.

"I apologize for the short notice." Michael offers kindly. He removes his jacket and sits on his desk.

"Has anything changed? Should I be worried?" He asks her carefully. Hancy waits by the door.

"No. I simply wanted to see the improvements personally and to make sure you're being treated fairly." Michael explains, not entirely lying.

"Your people have been distant but not unhelpful," Culbar says, glancing at Hancy. "You can understand why my people are still a little untrustworthy."

"And vice versa." She jokes mildly and he does smile. "Hancy, do see if Doctor Culbar's assistants need anything."

"I shoudn't let you out of my sight." Hancy reminds her with an air of pride.

"Please, there is nothing to fear." Michael assures her, looking briefly between the good doctor and her charge, Hancy begrudgingly leaves.

As soon as she does Michael drops her facade.

"I need something from you." She says, rising from her chair.

"If it is something I can provide, you have earned it." Culbar tells her amiably.

Michael wrings her hands for a moment. There's no time like the present and no other way of saying it except to lay it right out.

"Do you remember when we first met, I fainted and you said it was dehydration?" He nods. "I wonder... it was probably too early to tell but-"

"That you think you're with child?" Culbar finishes for her. She slowly nods. "If you are it would've been too early to tell then."

"Could you now?" She asks him, he sees the fear in her eyes. Out of his innate kind nature he reaches out, taking her shoulders in his hands.

"Michael, are you in danger?" He asks her quietly, his eyes flicking to the door before returning to her. She swallows.

" _Always_. Every day. You know what it's like here. He can't protect me forever. And I can't protect myself forever." Her hands find his chest, burying her face in his neck. She hasn't sought solace in the arms of anyone in months. Even when Lorca comforts her it isn't the same because she can't truly tell him how this place is slowly killing her.

Culbar rubs her back gently.

"What if I told you there was a way for you to..." he stops himself and she looks up at him.

"What?" She begs him to continue. He sighs.

"What if I told that you your ship never left?"


	15. XV

XV

Back on the _Charon,_ Gabriel walks briskly through the corridors with Landry and Tig and a few other familiar faces he trusts. The stares he receives are of fear and he's glad of it. They cannot look him in the eye. He made sure what happened to Cross was broadcasted throughout the ship. There was not a single soul who could escape his torment, and it was still ongoing.

A young soldier came running towards him, Landry took a protective stance in front of him, holding her hand out to the young man.

"Easy does it." Landry warns. The young man is out of breath, he salutes Gabriel.

Gabriel knows him by Yves, he hasn't been on the ship very long.

"Sir," Yves says, catching his breath. "The generals have requested the meeting be moved to the aft section of the ship, deck 5."

Gabriel exchanges a look with Landry and Tig.

"Repairs on deck 11, I doubt it's a threat." Landry affirms and he relaxes.

"Just to be sure order reinforcements to meet us on deck 5." He orders, she nods and flips open her communicator.

But as she does she squints and taps on the device.

"What?" He demands quickly and when she doesn't answer he grows frustrated. "Damn it, Ellen, what's-"

"Michael has gone to the surface."

"That's normal. She's probably talking to Culbar." He says and even he doesn't believe his own excuse. She had mentioned in a communication to him she was planning another meeting with the rebel leader, but she never said anything about it being in person.

"Then why didn't she ask me to come?" Landry asks, low and leaning in to whisper to him. He grits his teeth.

"Ellen-"

"Sir, what should I tell the generals?" Yves asks nervously, trembling.

"Quiet!" Gabriel shouts, his hands raised. The whole deck goes silent. He takes a deep breath, attempting to calm the raging emotions inside of himself.

"Give Michael this one chance," he says only to Landry. "She's not trying to escape."

Landry wants to tell him he's wrong, he's being sentimental and fucking naive. But she can't question him here. Not now. He doesn't realize that he's showing weakness.

Landry orders Tig to take the next turbolift. She needs this time to speak to him privately. He's losing his cool, she needs to remind him who he is.

"If the generals hear of this-"

"They won't." He cuts in and she groans and orders the turbolift to stop.

Turning to each other he's prepared. This wouldn't be the first time she's had to reign him in when it came to a Burnham before. After all, it was she who advised against his affair with the late Captain Burnham, and that had only ended in pain.

"They probably already have," she insists. "She needs to come back. I can take a small team to extract her."

Gabriel knows she's right and he despises her for it. And he hates Michael in that moment too, he doesn't want to believe she would be leaving him. That it was all a lie. He's picturing every moment he's made her smile, every time he's made love to her. It makes him sick to his stomach that perhaps she wasn't being truthful, that there was no purity to it. That he had been made a fool of to everyone.

"No," he says gruffly. "She'll run."

"Well she won't come back."

The words barely leave her mouth before he has her around the throat, pressing her into the wall crushing her body against his. He feels her life under his thumb.

"No," he says again, shaking his head stiffly. "Not _you_... don't- I won't hear it from _you_."

He releases her and she gasps in relief, rubbing her throat, her eyes watered over.

"Ellen..."

"I know."

Gabriel swallows his shame and orders the turbolift to resume.


	16. XVI

XVI

" _Discovery_ got in touch with us as soon as they could," Culbar explains, leading Michael through cramped corridors and climbing down an old metal ladder. She follows him, they pass children in rags but they have hope in their eyes. "They had to fly under the radar as best they could. One thing that worked to their advantage is that loyalty is scattered. Lorca has control of a vast part of the empire but there is still turmoil. More defectors than ever."

Michael hadn't known that, she now understands why the weight of the empire had been so heavy on his shoulders recently. Why the generals had been more eager than ever to rid themselves of the last of the rebels.

"They couldn't find a way out." Michael says worriedly when they come to a door. Culbar looks to her, furrowed brow and he slowly shakes his head.

"No, Michael. They stayed for you." Culbar says, Michael frowns as he opens as the door and she's met with a flurry of wild red hair and she feels tears in her eyes when she recognizes Tilly immediately.

"You're alive!" Tilly exclaims, holding her so tight she can't breathe but it's more welcome than she can even imagine. Michael breathes in how Tilly smells, the way her hair tickles her cheek.

Over Tilly's shoulder she sees Stamets smiling with tears in his eyes, long lost friends reunited.

 _They stayed for_ you, she hears the words reverberate in her mind. She's never felt more at home in this universe until now.

"We have a way out," Stamets explains. "But time is running out. We have to leave today if we have any way of getting back to our own universe. We have hours, maybe."

They explain the plan to Michael and she doesn't confide in them all that has happened. She doesn't tell Tilly and Stamets what Culbar has confirmed to her. That she is carrying Lorca's child. And they haven't told her what they found in a cell planets away...

It's not until Michael is truly presented with a real escape, one that she has been fabricated by her own imagination that she feels... doubt. Can she leave him? Yes, yes she can it's all she's wanted all these long months.

But he has been good to her, in the only ways he knows how. She tries to tell herself it's a simple case of Stockholm Syndrome. That she doesn't actually- _couldn't-_ care for him.

"There's something I need," Michael says suddenly, they're on their way to their shuttle, waiting for them. _Discovery_ is altering course to stay out of the sight of the Terran imperial ships. They have to hurry before they have to change course again, they've stayed out of comms range to better hide their position.

"We don't have time, Michael." Stamets says urgently, Culbar nodding in agreement.

"There's only so long before the _Charon_ won't take no response from your handler." Culbar says cruicilly but Michael shakes her head.

"No. No. I... I need to do something." She insists.

Tilly takes Michael's hand, noticing her distress.

"What's wrong?" Tilly asks quietly, and Michael holds her friend's forearm.

"I can't tell you. I... I'll beam back when I'm done."

"They won't let you leave again." Stamets says, his voice rising and Michael notices how Culbar reassures him by stroking his shoulder.

"Please. He'll let me go." Michael says, regretting her slip. She shouldn't have mentioned Lorca because immediately Tilly and Stamets stiffen. The blonde scientist shares a look with Culbar, which only confirms whatever it is that Stamets and Tilly are imagining.

"What has he-" Tilly starts, her face red with anger.

"Nothing. Believe me, he'll let me go." Michael says confidently.

Tilly, Stamets and Culbar watch Michael disappear into a transporter beam after she's convinced them. Paul looks to Hugh.

"What haven't you told us?" He asks, his feelings evident. Hugh only sighs and gives him a bitter look.

When Michael returns she insists on finding Gabriel. The guards tell her she needs to be confined to quarters but she uses her position as leverage, when that doesn't work she resorts to Terran methods. She assaults two guards, holds a phaser to another.

"Your _queen_ desires to see her _king_ ," she breathes harshly. They inform her of his whereabouts.

Deck 5 seems to take years to reach. When she does she's met with Landry's face. She was informed of Michael's arrival. She looks surprised to see her, but Michael plays it cool and close to the chest.

"Safe trip?" Landry asks narrowly. Michael notes the bruises on her neck but says nothing.

"Eventful."

"Where's Hancy?" Landry asks.

"She stayed behind. I plan on returning later."

Landry smirks and shakes her head.

"You should really tell me when you're planning another jaunt down to the surface. One might think you were hiding something."

Michael smiles, a toothy unconvincing grin.

"What could I ever hide from you, Ellen?"

Upon using her first name she notices how it shakes the Terran woman.

"I'll tell him you're here." Landry says, turning away and walking towards the chamber doors. Michael waits and tries to think of what she's going to say to him. It's not going to be easy. In fact she knows there will be a battle. He'll most likely try to physically stop her.

When Gabriel sees her he lets out a shaky breath. She feels guilty for worrying him. He probably imagined the worst, and he was right to.

"Take my place at the table, I'll be back shortly." He orders Landry without looking at her.

"Yes, sir." Landry adds, slipping away from sight.

Gabriel takes Michael's elbow, guiding her to a alcove where there is little foot traffic.

"I can-" before she can finish he kisses her hotly, pressing her into the shadows; their forms becoming mingled and deformed as one strange dark image.

For a moment Michael believes this is where she belongs, in the darkness with him. She gives into the kiss, holding him close to her. He pulls away only for a moment, his lips so close to hers. She wants him to kiss her again, but now is not the time.

"I thought you left me." He admits, holding her hands to his chest like a bible. She feels his heart beating wildly, willingly for her. She feels like she's holding it in her hands and it tortures she is going to hurt him, maybe he'll kill her in the process. She doesn't know.

"I..." she begins but he stops her again, his tongue invading her mouth, slick and hot against her own. She can't help herself and slides her hands down his chest, feeling the hard plains of his chest and how rigid and firm he's always been. His hand is following a boiling path under her skirt.

"Wait," she breathes, shaking and tingling all over for him. "We'll be seen."

"I don't care." He says, rough and warm all at once. She's cold, she's scorching.

Gabriel raises one leg over his hip and presses himself into her and she moans, muffling her voice into his shirt.

"It wasn't a lie, was it?" He asks her desperately, his lips at her ear and she shakes her head.

"No." She says truthfully. It wasn't. It had all been true. Every kiss was a silent admittance of how she really felt, even if she never said the words.

Gabriel breathes a sigh of relief before kissing her again, unable to stop himself. She feels his knife at his hip, his phaser on his belt. She could disarm him, knock him out and make her escape. But she can't do that to him. She can't bring herself to take her hands off him or to stop his own from bringing her other leg up to hoist her against the wall.

Michael holds on even when she knows she has to let him go. She has to stop this. She has to tell him the truth.

"I love you, Michael." He says and she falls apart, tears falling from her eyes. He has her now. He sees the guilt on her face and it both softens his heart and forces his Demon into a rage.

"Don't stop." She begs him and he shakes his head.

"You're a very... good actress." He says, releasing her legs and she hangs onto him.

"It wasn't an act." She tries but he shakes his head, he can't part from her either.

"Don't lie. You've never been good at it." He says, a strange humor in his voice and she recalls when they played a brief game of truth or lie. When he admitted to only loving _one_ woman.

Michael wonders if he had been talking about Captain Burnham or herself. She can't bring herself to even think it was her. But now she knows the truth.

"Don't let go," she begs him. "You can come with me."

Gabriel looks down at her and strokes his thumb over her cheek, her tear creating a clear sheet over her cheekbone.

"And then what?" He asks her, wanting her to tell him of the fantasy she's made. He wants to believe it.

"We'll... we'll find a way." She says, not even believing her own words. He kisses her forehead again and crumbles, sobs harshly then brings himself back together.

"I'm a war criminal, Michael," he says and she shakes her head and he frowns. "You know it's true. I'll not be met with open arms."

Michael naively doesn't believe it. Refuses to believe it.

"Starfleet doesn't know anything yet. We'll tell the crew-"

"What?" He cuts in gently. "That I was under some magic spell?" He scoffs and lets his hands fall to her waist.

"It was a dream to think you would love me," he says, his eyes piercing her own, she opens her mouth to speak but he places a finger over her soft lips. "Thank you for... for making me want to be better. I'm just sorry I couldn't be. It's in my nature."

Michael feels him beginning to slip away when she pulls his head back down to hers. He wants to rip himself away from her, to tell her the act isn't necessary anymore. That she doesn't have to keep soiling herself on his dirty hands. But Christ, the way she kisses him he does believe she wants him.

"Please, take me." She whispers against his neck, spreading beautiful heart stopping kisses over any corner of visible flesh she can find.

He feels her hands sliding up the back of shirt, he remembers her in the shower when she had feared him. When she kissed him for the first time in her vain attempt to seduce him. The first time he felt her core envelop him.

When he hatched his horrible plan to get her pregnant in order to trap her here with him. How foolish and selfish he had been then. How he had only wanted to keep the fantasy alive a little longer. But he knew he couldn't do that to her. He couldn't ruin her like that. She was too perfect, too pure and good. She was after all living up daily to her namesake.

Once more Michael's legs are wrapped tightly around his waist. She hastily unbuckles his belt, his hands supporting her under her thighs. This is what she wants, he believes it. But he pretends she's not leaving him. He pretends they're on another world, enjoying a holiday together, trying to be sneaky and not get caught.

But Michael takes him away from that fantasy when she forces him to meet her gaze. The yellow glow of the _Charon_ reminding him where they really are. She slowly brings his hardened manhood closer to her wet core.

"Stay with me here," she says to him knowingly as if she knows his mind is picturing them elsewhere, and she does because she does that too. "It's just us."

Gabriel wants to take his time with her but there is _no_ time. Whatever plan she has to escape is urgent and he can't help himself, he wants her to be there to when her rescue has to leave. But he wants her here with him.

Was that love? Wanting more than anything to have the person you loved most by your side but willing to let them go.

 _If you love me let me go,_ she had said her first night here under his new order. He had thought it foolish poetic nonsense. That only an idiot would let their true love go. But no, love was sacrifice. Even if that meant forfeiting your own life and happiness. It wasn't enough he was willing to die for her. He had to let her go in order for her to live.

It was quick, ruthless and beautiful. He had to cover her mouth and he hated himself for biting so hard into her neck she cried out under his hand in pain.

"Remember." He whispers roughly as he fucks her deeply against the dark wall of the alcove.

With all her strength she tears his hand from her mouth, their foreheads sweaty and pressed together. Their bodies so close breathing is almost impossible. He's deeper than he's ever been before. His heart is not only in her hands but in her soul, in her marrow, in her very being.

Michael feels herself edging closer and closer, dying and awakening again and again.

"I love you." She says and she hates herself because it's true and she hates herself for wanting her freedom as much as she wants him. She hates him for not coming with her. She hates him for loving her, for making her love him.

 _I could never love you,_ she remembers. He looks deeply, sadly into her eyes.

"I know you don't." He says and she shakes her head and he increases his pace to an unbearable painful and pleasurable speed. It hurts so thoroughly. She's never known pain coupled with pleasure like this before.

"I love you." She tells him again and his hand is at her throat, attempting to stop her from hurting him anymore than she already has. He squeezes only a little, to scare her. But she doesn't stop.

"I love you." She repeats.

"Stop." He begs her, he relinquishes his hold on her throat and he simply holds her hips.

"I love you, Gabriel." She says, and it's the last time. The last kiss, the last everything they can share.

There's still so much she doesn't know about him. What music he likes, his favorite color, who is parents were, did he know them? There was so much she wanted to know about her counterpart. There was still so much... but there was no time.

Michael felt foolish for wasting so much time, so much time when she could've been asking him who he was and why he had done the things he had done.

There's so much she wants to tell him; of her childhood on Vulcan, of her desire to better not only herself but him and others. She wants to tell him her secret guilty pleasure was French fries. She wants to tell him she knows she can't live without him.

Michael cums quietly, he plants himself inside her one last time. Shuddering hard, shaking so terribly she fears he might collapse. He doesn't. He remains strong. He sets her legs down on the ground, steadying her carefully, pulling her skirt down and making it look presentable.

She wants to smile at the gesture but it's too painful. He tucks himself back into his trousers and she takes his shoulders in her small hands.

"Please, you can-"

"Go." He says strongly. "Go before..."

Michael watches him step back from her, forcing himself as far away as possible.

"Please," she says reaching for him but he darts further away. "Will you take my hand?"

Gabriel looks at her small dark hand, shaking and unwavering. He wants more than anything to go with her, but it's impossible. They both know it. There's no future for them anywhere.

"Goodbye, Michael." He says, turning away and going back to the chamber.

Michael swallows as the room encloses around him. She wipes her face. She can't look back now. She storms back to the nearest transporter room. She tries not to make a scene, it's hard though. Everything in her is telling her to go back to him. To force him to come with her. But to what end?

Gabriel is right... he'd be hunted down by Starfleet, the crew would never believe any story or lie she would tell them. And she can't lie to them. They're her family, she can't lie to her family.

When the first explosion takes place it knocks the wind out of her. She finds her feet again only to have another explosion send her into a wall. The bodies are the first thing she sees, a young Terran soldier blown in half. She feels sick to her stomach, her head fuzzy.

Michael feels arms lifting her and sound returns to normal. An alarm blares.

"Come on!" It's Landry, pulling her to her feet. And Michael realizes what's happening. And she realizes she didn't get to tell Gabriel about the child... his child, their child.

"Gabriel-"

"Let's go!" Landry urges her forward, her weapon drawn and she shoves a phaser into Michael's palm.

Landry opens fire as a Terran comes around the corner, he incinerates with a scream swallowed by the fire of the phaser.

"Who was he?" Michael asks.

"Doesn't matter. They're all our enemies now. Trust no one." Landry says, they take cover behind a pillar.

"How can I trust you?" Michael asks and Landry takes Michael's phaser, sets it to kill and hands it back.

"That's how. Come on." Landry says, taking Michael by her arm and moving them forward. Another Terran comes at them, Landry fires and misses. He shoots and Michael grabs her and moves her out of the way.

Michael opens fire and the man probably didn't feel any pain, she hopes. She wants to be sick. But she had to, didn't she?

"Where's Gabriel?" She asks and Landry rises and Michael follows.

"He's meeting us in the transporter room."

"He's alive?" Michael asks but Landry says nothing.

They don't encounter any more resistance. The transporter room is sending sparks flying and there's fire, the ship quakes beneath their feet. She sees Gabriel at the controls, bloody and injured, his side weeping blood but he won't give it any notice. She goes to him.

"You're hurt." She says and he ignores it.

"A scratch." He brushes it off, presses button and Landry guards the door.

" _Discovery,_ is that you out there?" He says and Michael looks at him in disbelief.

" _Discovery here, waiting transporter coordinates."_ She hears a familiar voice say.

"They attacked us?" Michael questions and Landry shakes her head.

"No, that was the generals revolting. Your crew had impeccable timing though." The woman responds and opens fire. "Six more coming."

"Can you hold them off?" Gabriel asks and Landry smiles, throwing a grenade into the corridor.

"Does that answer your question?" She replies and he chuckles, then winces gripping his side.

Michael takes his arm.

"Please. Come with me." She tries again and he cups her chin, his eyes glassy, his blood smearing her chin.

"I will." He says and she breathes a sigh of relief, he kisses her cheek.

"Thank you." She says.

" _Nearly there, locking on,"_ a voice says coming over the comm.

"I need to tell you something," she says smiling, the ship rocks again and sparks fly but it doesn't matter they'll be safe soon.

"Eight more!" Landry shouts but he isn't listening.

"Now that we'll be together I can tell you," she says, he squints and she kisses his knuckles. "I think you'll be surprised."

"Gabriel!" Landry says and she opens fire, sending another grenade and it detonates with a bang sending debris and rubble into the transporter room.

"I'm pregnant." She says and it makes him new again. "They'll go easy on you. I'll testify on your behalf. I'll lie, I'll do anything so we can all be together."

Gabriel smiles, a tear falling from those beautiful blue orbs she loved more than anything.

"I... I'd like that." He says slowly, she notices him arm his phaser.

"Gabriel?"

He squeezes her hand so hard she thinks it might break. He kisses her forehead. Then he tears himself away from her, pressing a button on the transporter console, and putting feet between them.

"Energize." Is all he says and she screams, she cries instantly. But he knows it was the right thing to do.

"I love you."

No ship should go down without her captain and no empire should burn without its emperor on top of the pyre.


	17. XVII

XVII

Ellen dies in his arms, it was appropriate and right. Shrapnel tore into her chest and he watches her die a second time, bloody and without honor or glory. He manages to seal off the transporter room and destroys the console but he can buy himself some time. The generals are too preoccupied with killing him they won't attack _Discovery_. She'll be safe, they'll _both_ be safe.

His evil plan had worked. She was pregnant. He pulls Ellen's body into his lap, finds shelter under the console and holds her lifeless hand. The ship groans under him but he doesn't care. He thought he would be angry or sad. But she's safe. His child is safe. It'll look like her. Maybe a boy to keep her on her toes or a girl made in her mother's perfect image.

Gabriel doesn't care if it's a boy or girl. They're safe, whatever they'll be. He did it. She'll never know he did it to keep her here, only it changed him in more ways he could've imagined when she told him she was pregnant. In that moment, he knew there was no other place she needed to be but home.

"We've come a long way, old girl." He says, Ellen's hand still warm. "I'm not sorry."

The door is being through by powerful phaser fire. He wonders if they'll ever find the other him. He doesn't even know where he is. Could be dead or worse. If there was a worse.

Gabriel thinks of Michael as he removes the detonator from his pocket. He's been carrying it around with him since Ellen first warned him of his followers unrest. She had been the only loyal one to the very end. He gives _Discovery_ two more minutes to get out of range, then he'll blow the whole damn place.

Finally bury it. The empire will fall and rise again. Michael had been right about that. He was foolish to think he could've held it all together. But he's still not sorry. He'd do it again. One more minute, the door is almost entirely cut through. He stands, opens fire and kills at least two of them. But he falters and has to take cover again, his injury is deep and if he wasn't planning on doing what he was going to do it would be fatal.

He sighs deeply and tosses the phaser away. He won't need it now, not where he's going. Hell waits him, but he'll go to his death knowing he had heaven for a short while.

Thirty seconds.

Gabriel smiles, remembering meeting Michael for the first time. It had been true what he had said, she did scare the shit out of him. Every moment of every day on that ship she frightened him more and more. Because for the first time since his Burnham's death, he didn't mourn her as much as he had.

Fifteen seconds.

"And my soul from out that shadow shall be lifted nevermore. Fuckin' poetry."

The door hits the floor with an echoing thud. They find him, phasers drawn.

"Come for the show?" He asks, grinning.

"It's over, Lorca," Raithe says, glancing down at Landry.

"You're right. Well, let's make this quick. And by the way, this is how we say go fuck yourself where she's from."

Gabriel detonates the bomb and the _Charon_ begins to explode in great white light, a ball of hot fire in space.

The last thing he sees before he dies is Michael, her smile, her perfect teeth, her straight back, her Starfleet blues. She's welcoming him home and he goes with his eyes open. He wants to see the light, he wants it to blind him before he goes. It's the last that will remind him of home, what could have been his. The light that brings him to his death, brings him as close as he will ever be again to her universe.

To her.


	18. XVIII

XVIII

Michael appeared in the transporter room of _Discovery_ with her arms stretched out, midstep, faltering and falling to her knees bruising them instantly... but she didn't care. She was brought back for a moment to Philippa's death. It was like a torturous mirror of that fatal day. She didn't openly sob this time, instead she was left in a breathless shock.

They had been so _close_. The transporter technician said her name but she couldn't comprehend what he was saying.

 _Isn't this what you wanted?_ She thought in a daze. Seconds ticked by, achingly slow. A nurse was at her side, asking her questions and checking her vitals. Michael could feel the ship going to warp, she wanted to stop it and go back for him. He would've gone back for her. But she was powerless.

And when the shockwave of the explosion sent the ship moving faster and harder through time and space she rocked with the ship, holding onto a bulkhead as she felt herself growing sicker by the second.

He was gone... her Gabriel was dead.

Of course it was all very poetic, just as he always hated. Perhaps there was a morbid symmetry to it all.

There were still so many things left unsaid, undone. She didn't know where to start.

Michael didn't need medical attention, she refused it ardently but she was coerced into it.

Later she took refuge in her quarters and sought solace in her self imposed isolation. She had grown accustomed to the queer comforts on the _Charon_. She kept waking, expecting to see Gabriel entering the room, shadowed in the doorway.

She spoke to her unborn child, quiet whispers when she was half awake. She did this because it kept her from thinking about him too long. She could still feel his hands, taste him. She had no desire to bathe or brush her teeth. The last remains of his body would be lost in a drain.

Michael now felt as he had when he lost Captain Burnham. There had been no real goodbye, how could there have been? Goodbyes were meant to be final and in a way satisfying. This was not. You can never truly say goodbye to someone you love, not when their death was more finite than life.

"Will you tell me what happened?" Tilly asks her, in the quiet of night, the dark is her friend now. Tilly sits at the foot of Michael's narrow twin bed. She rolls away.

"Not tonight." Michael answers blandly.

"It's been two days, Michael, and you haven't left this room." Tilly says, her worry clear. But the cadet doesn't understand, how could she? She wasn't _there_. She hadn't seen what she and Gabriel had come so close to accomplishing. What their child would have meant to a world ravaged by war.

And what of the rebels? Would they even stand a chance without Gabriel's promise not to harm them? No. They would be slaughtered by whatever new regime took over next.

The Culbar counterpart, he was probably already dead. She couldn't imagine him abandoning his cause. He would die with his people. In their filthy rags, their meager lodgings and their few defenses.

"I am recovering." Michael tells Tilly and she knows the younger woman doesn't understand, she's probably frowning, maybe there are tears in her eyes because Michael won't confide in her.

"From what? What happened to you there?" Tilly pleads with her, taking Michael's hand in her own.

"I learned a great deal about myself," Michael says slowly. "A part of it sickens me and another part of me..." she can't finish her sentence and she weeps lowly. Tilly squeezes her hand and lays her head on Michael's side, holding her.

"Shh... it's ok. You don't have to tell me." Tilly says comfortingly.

"I'm not whole," Michael says, through sobs. "I feel like I'm missing a part of myself."

Tilly presses a sisterly kiss to her arm, rubbing her elbow.

"I feel like someone has taken my eyes, an arm, a leg. My chest _hurts_." Michael says, and she knows none of what she says makes any sense. She hardly understands it herself. It's not like when Ash hurt her. That had been betraying and had hurt in a different way.

And after all, Ash had lied to her, Gabriel was dead.

"You won't feel like this forever." Tilly tells her, but only because she doesn't know what else to say. Tilly had imagined a thousand horrible scenarios that could have befallen Michael. She never imagined one of them would have been falling in love with the enemy. Tilly wasn't stupid, she was naive but she wasn't inept. Who else would Michael have fallen for? It didn't make sense to herself, but she hadn't been trapped where Michael had been.

Tilly didn't judge her, considering the circumstances she couldn't do anything but be there for her.

"That's just it," Michael says, "I don't know if it hurts more that I will one day not feel this way or that I feel it so strongly now."

"There's something you should know," Tilly says and Michael remembers Landry saying the same thing. There's plenty of that going around for her. "We found something here- or someone."

Michael doesn't roll over, she has no interest in whatever freakish unnatural thing they found in this universe.

"Saru asked me not to say anything until he spoke to you but," Tilly pauses. "Will you please look at me?"

Michael sighs, closes her eyes for a moment before rolling over, Tilly deserves her attention; after all they all stayed behind risking their lives to get her back. Tilly thanks her and resumes,

"Look, I just don't want you to be walking the decks and see him." Tilly explains, her eyes soft but almost... distressed. Michael sits up.

"Is it Ash?" Michael asks, wondering if they had found his own counterpart in this place, but Tilly shakes her head.

"No. Michael, there's no easy way to say this and I'm so sorry... it's Captain Lorca."

Tilly tried to get her to remain in their quarters but she there was no keeping her in one place. With determination she went to the bridge; on her way she thought she saw him around every corner, in every crewman with dark hair.

It wasn't a lie or a trick, and why would Tilly do that to her? She wouldn't. Michael hurriedly ordered the turbolift to bring her to the bridge. She needed to talk to Saru. She needed to hear the story from him, he was her captain now.

The turbolift opens and as she is making her exit she collides with a solid body, hands steady her shoulders and she nearly rears back because she's still not used to seeing ghosts; not ones who hold her with hands that conjure a stampede of emotions.

Not ghosts with eyes so familiar and yet look at her as if she's a stranger, because she is.

Not ghosts who don't remember her because they've never met. She feels his last his kiss, his sacrifice... and he lets go.

"Ca...Captain Lorca." She says, remembering her training and addressing him as she should.

"I'm afraid _not_ Captain." He responds, his tone edgeless. She frowns, Saru appears behind him.

"Specialist Burnham," he addresses her. "You'll be pleased to meet the real Gabriel Lorca."

Michael clears her throat and holds out her hand, he doesn't hesitate and shakes it slowly.

"Pleased to meet you." He answers, his tone still a flatline. "If you'll excuse me." He releases her hand and moves into the turbolift behind her, the doors sliding shut.

Saru makes her a cup of tea in his ready room, she accepts it gladly.

"The other Culbar found him in a Terran prison," he begins slowly. "They were raiding it after a battle and of course they recognized him. But he insisted he was not who they believed he was. A simple DNA test was enough to convince Culbar, the most minute of differences proved who he was."

Michael sighs, in relief and in the irony. That's all it would've taken. But there had never been any reason for a DNA test. Not when her Gabriel had been so convincing.

"What is his position now?" Michael asks her friend and comrade. Saru taps his long fingers on the desk.

"Security Chief," he answers. "He insisted on nothing more. He's taken brilliant precautions and care. He seems to have no interest in captaining another starship again. Not after the _Buran_. And he already has a history of security operations."

Michael nods, she hadn't known that about him. Why would she have? Then she remembers she's projecting feelings and memories onto a man who shares no history with her whatsoever. And it hurts her that he doesn't know her.

"I'll keep my distance." She promises.

Michael knows that she has perhaps hours of respite before reality must be addressed.

How long do they have before Starfleet catches up with them? How long does she have until the medical scans reveal that she is indeed pregnant? Saru will be notified. He will need to know. And Tilly and Stamets... Christ. What is Stamets going through? He's lost his husband, his rock, his foundation.

It's then she alters her course and goes to the one person who might understand what she is going through.

She finds Paul in the mess hall, alone with only a bowl of vanilla pudding as company. Others look at him with pity, she refrains. She goes to him.

"May I join you?" She asks and he simply nods without looking up. She sits, and he offers her his desert.

"We used to share one," he says, a soft smile playing at his lips when she declines. "After a long shift at the hospital or when I worked late, we'd stay up despite the hour and despite being exhausted. Back when things were good. Before the war."

Michael swallows the lump in her throat, she touches his hand and he holds her fingers.

"What happened to you out there?" Paul asks her, his eyes finally meeting hers. His eyes so darkly blue, so concerned. He had hated her when they first met and then he taught her to dance, encouraged her feelings and her ability to love and how she deserved to be loved.

They had come so far.

"I fell in love." She admits, there was no other way to say it. He doesn't judge her the way she feared he would.

"With Lorca?" He clarifies and she nods. "It's not really my place to ask but... why?"

Michael sighs deeply, she had once asked Gabriel why he had loved her own counterpart. And at the time she had not understood how impersonal her question had been, not until someone else was asking her the same thing.

"I don't know," she answers. "No, I do and I don't. He was cruel and arrogant, cavalier and pompous. But what you and the others never saw was his ability to be good. I could see it, but only because he let me see it. He was gentle and amiable, thoughtful and intelligent. He forced me to question my own beliefs and challenged me in ways I didn't think I ever could be. I won't deny that place was hell but every day I discovered something new about him that changed me. And I still don't know his middle name or where he grew up. I don't know the circumstances that shaped him into who he was. All I have is the memory of a man who had the power to force me to do anything he wished and chose not to."

Michael realizes she's been weeping, with his free hand Paul hands her a napkin which she accepts gratefully.

"Seeing the other Hugh was like a knife to the chest," Paul admits. "I didn't ask him to come back with us, I knew he wouldn't. It was strange, I was almost proud of him. It was so tempting to want to stay behind or take him with me. Overwhelming even. I don't agree with anything the Lorca we knew did, I don't respect him or admire him. But I do understand why he couldn't find it in himself to let you go. Losing Hugh was like-"

"Losing a limb." Michael finishes for him, he nods.


	19. XIX

XIX

A Federation ship is hours away, she gets word from Tilly. The closer the arrival the more anxious Michael becomes. She's afraid they'll take her child, that it's not hers. That it was conceived by not one traitor but two. She's still a mutineer after all. What protection does she have now that the one man who gave her, her freedom was gone?

Prison was no place to raise a child. They're going to take it from her, she's sure. Or they'll terminate it and send her back to the hole in the ground where Gabriel had found her.

On the holodeck, Michael runs Gabriel's Klingon training simulation program, surprised no one has deleted it but maybe no one thought of it. She's tired, she hasn't eaten much, but she needs distraction. At first she's pretty rusty, the Klingon replicas aren't as a dull as she expected them to. They're fairly lifelike and for a moment she forgets they aren't real.

Gabriel had truly wanted realism in his training. It was also a way for her to be connected to something that was his; she had no picture of him, no sentimental item. She had the memories, and a ghost haunting her decks above and below her.

Michael sustained a simulated injury from behind, swiftly turning she fired and dispatched the Klingon assailant. She was killing the Klingons who took her parents from her, the Klingons who had hurt and raped and harmed any innocent being. She was killing anyone who would try to take her child from her.

Rounding a corner Michael caught sight of something moving down a corridor. They were too short to be Klingon and the program didn't list any other characters; frowning she followed, phaser at the ready, but she knows it's virtually useless if there was a real threat waiting for her.

That's what living on the _Charon_ had done to her now, everything was a threat and her life was always in danger or at risk.

"Hello?" She calls, waiting for a reply. When one doesn't come she moves further down the corridor.

A Klingon jumps out with a bat'leth raised high, she loses her footing and falls back. The Klingon grunts, jolts forward and disappears at it falls to the floor.

"Computer pause simulation." Gabriel Lorca says, walking towards her, through the dissipating holographic image, appearing like a spectre before her very eyes. His phaser rifle lowered, he extends a hand to her. She hesitates, she can't touch him. It's wrong, it's all wrong here.

"Take my hand." He says, dumbly when she doesn't move. But she feels herself on the _Charon,_ begging Gabriel to come with her.

"I'm fine." She says, ignoring his gesture, pushing herself to her feet. The simulation is frozen around them, Klingons are still in place around corners and corridors.

"I didn't know anyone else used this program." Michael says, her voice cutting through the silence.

"I was curious," he answers. "It's not bad. Albeit it lacks the personal touch."

Michael shrugs.

"I wouldn't know." She brushes past him, going towards a console to restart the program.

"I'll leave you then." She hears him say but she's a glutton for punishment and she doesn't want to be alone anymore.

"Join me." Michael offers to his back, he pauses, turning.

"You sure?" He questions, testing the waters. She nods.

"Yeah."

 _What are you doing? It's not him!_ She thinks but she ignores the thought.

The simulation is tiring but exciting, eventful and rarely dull. When there are slow moments it only serves to keep her on edge. He's fast, quick on his feet, has elegant movements; a sign he really has had Starfleet combat training whereas his Terran alter ego had not. His plans of attack or defense are well thought out, but sometimes not by the book and rather spontaneous.

Gabriel Lorca even lets her take the lead at times, foregoing rank or position or seniority.

And perhaps it's only natural for him coming from a leadership background but he stays in front of her as they make their assaults, protecting her from harm even though it's a simulation and they couldn't fatally injure her.

"Getting tired?" He asks her, his rifle raised, checking a corner.

"One more round." She says, still not ready to leave the privacy that the holodeck provides her with despite her feeling her bones aching and her back groaning.

"I've read about you," he says making friendly conversation as they train. "If it makes you feel any better this is pretty strange for me too."

Michael raises a brow.

"I'm sure it isn't the same." She assures him.

"You'd be surprised." He looks at her, then swallows and looks away.

"The Terrans?" She asks and he nods.

"They were not pleased, suffice to say. The first ones who had me said they were going to keep me on ice," he pauses and chuckles shaking his head. "Crazy bunch of assholes."

Looking back at Michael he only stares at her, his eyes roving her face. She's glad the light in the simulation is low so he can't see her blush. It's not the same as when her Gabriel looked at her, she keeps telling herself.

"What?" She asks, licking her lips.

"You just remind me of someone." He tells her before moving forward, she follows his lead.

"You couldn't have encountered the other version of myself."

Shaking his head Gabriel doesn't look at her when he says,

"No, someone else a long time ago."

Michael doesn't ask, partly because she doesn't want to get to know this Gabriel because he's not hers. Eventually the round ends, he has more kills than her. But she's not in a competitive mood. He orders the computer to end the simulation and they return their phaser rifles.

"I apologize if I intruded on your alone time." He says to her, unzipping his vest.

"You didn't."

"You looked pretty deep in thought back there," he says, gesturing to the now closed holodeck and moments later he adds, "Anything I can help with?"

Michael smiles sadly, shaking her head, her eyes downcast.

"I doubt anybody can." She concludes, her hand resting on the butt of the rifle, now placed securely back with the others.

"Maybe I can try," he suggests, his hand resting on a rifle near her own. She knows he's not trying to initiate some kind of physical comfort. That wouldn't be right. "You look like you haven't eaten in a while. I can't let that go untreated." He says and he begins to make his exit from the armory attached to the holodeck. Frowning, she can't help but follow him.

"I didn't know you were also a doctor." Michael quips, he smiles.

"Field training only, I'm afraid. However, I might not be captain, but I am in charge of this ship's security and I think it would be very dangerous for our science specialist to be on bridge duty without proper nutrients, I wouldn't want you making the wrong call because you're too stubborn to eat."

Michael smiles and immediately regrets it. He's trying to make her comfortable despite what little data he has on her situation. In fact, what has Saru told him? That his counterpart crossed time and space, murdered an emperor and held her under his care for months until she could escape?

And what would the crew think of them sharing a meal together in the mess hall? They'll talk, even if it's not to be cruel. They'll still talk, people can't help themselves that way.

"I think I'll take dinner in my quarters." She says, halting before they reach the doors. He looks disappointed. "I wouldn't want... you shouldn't get mixed up with me."

"Computer, site to site transport Gabriel Lorca's quarters." Before she can protest she materializes in his new living quarters.

"There. Now you don't have to worry about my reputation." He says with a smile.

When he asks her what she would like she requests the Vulcan soup she's been craving since the _Charon_. He makes a face upon the smell and hands it to her, clearing off the table of data strips and tablets. He orders a dish of chicken and red peppers.

They eat in silence and Michael cherishes how the soup warms her and reminds her of home. She thinks of Sarek and Amanda, hell, even Spock. She hasn't seen him years. They were always on better speaking terms than he was with Sarek. She hopes the war brings them together, makes them realize they're family after all.

"Can I ask how _Discovery_ found you?" She prompts, the silence having lasted too long now.

"I didn't think anybody would," he begins, clearing his throat. "I estimate I was in that cell for nine maybe ten months. I thought I was going to go crazy, nobody talked to me. They kept me alive while they tortured others, I guess I understand why now. It doesn't make me feel any better though."

Survivor's guilt. Michael can appreciate that.

"Well, something happened that sent my captors into a tizzy," he continues. "I'm assuming it was the other me returning and raising hell. They didn't seem to know what to do with me though. I kept hearing them argue whether or not to wait for orders or just be done with me. I remember an explosion, being knocked out. When I came to the rebels had me in another cell, they weren't convinced I was who I said I was until their doctor did a DNA test," he breathes a small laugh. "Waiting for those results was one hell of a harrowing moment."

Michael feels a chill over her but her appetite is rising, she continues to eat. The whole time her Terran Lorca had been using _Discovery_ and helping to win the war against the Klingons, the real man had been suffering alone and isolated in a cage with no information as to why he was even there.

He was extremely lucky to be alive and Michael suspected he knew as much.

"What about you? I hear your experience was more populated." He remarks, gently. Michael sighs and chews her lip.

"It was." Is all she says. He nods slowly.

"What kept you going?" He asks and she lowers her spoon, he seems to realize his mistake. "I'm sorry I-"

"No, it's fine. We have a shared experience," she says kindly. "It is only logical you would want to know of mine. I was treated well and..."

 _Loved,_ she wants to say but doesn't.

"Michael?" He asks, concern clothing his voice and she feels the first few tears drop from her eyes, landing on the table in a silent warm splash.

"I'm sorry," she says wiping her face, embarrassed by her lack of self control as of late.

"If someone hurt you-"

Michael groans and stands from the table, placing her hands on the surface.

"Why does everyone assume I was hurt?" She demands and he's at a loss for words. "I wasn't. I was... I wasn't hurt. He was fair to me and better than he realized."

Gabriel nods, raising a hand, "It's ok. I'm sorry."

Michael shakes her head, moving away from the table and she hears him follow her.

"It's... it's very difficult looking at you," she tells him slowly. "I thought I knew how he felt but I didn't," she knows he doesn't understand what she's saying but she can't stop now. "When I look at you I see everything he could've been, everything he had the potential to be. If there had only been more time."

Michael finally turns to look at him, he's closer than she realized.

"And you're looking at me like I'm crazy." She says with a sad laugh. He touches her shoulder, hesitantly but she leans into it regardless.

"I don't think you're crazy," he says quietly. "I think you're tired and... broken hearted. I've been there, trust me."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do now." She says faintly.

"I think you should finish your soup and then go to sleep." He suggests and she smiles brokenly. He maneuvers her back to the table where they sit and resume their dinner.

When Gabriel suggested she go to sleep she hadn't meant to pass out on his couch. He had suggested a game of chess, he noted how her eyes lit up in surprise. After a game her eyes began to bounce and he let her simply drift off on her own.

He gently lays her on her side, a pillow cushioning her head. He removes her shoes and places a blanket over her.

"Gabriel...?" she whispers in her sleep and he freezes, her hand in the dark and overwhelmed with exhaustion seeks his out. He almost doesn't give in but then does. Her grip is weak, but it's there.

Michael doesn't whisper anything else in her sleep, he holds her hand until he can safely slip away.

Gabriel Lorca had been through more than his fair share of events in the last ten months. First his ship and crew destroyed, his life taken by another man, his reputation as an upstanding citizen and Starfleet officer and representative of the Federation tarnished. He doesn't judge Michael but he can't understand why she fell in love with someone like that, because even if she wasn't saying it he wasn't stupid and it was clear something had happened between Michael Burnham and his counterpart.

He could see the attraction to her, she was strikingly beautiful. Even as her eyes filled with tears her beauty was unrivaled and her intelligence was unparalleled. She reminded him so much of Baylana. The eyes were different, personality and careers couldn't be further apart but her smile brought him back to when he was ready to give up everything for her.

That part of himself, it seemed, transcended all manner of matter and reality.

What had pushed his counterpart to such drastic measures? He had faced his own demons, he had willingly taken himself out of the equation of ever finding a partner to have through life. Because of Baylana he wouldn't dare go through that again. She had been one a kind then and even more so now. He carried her with him everywhere he went in everything he did. He had stopped blaming himself a long time ago, Kat had been right; there was no way he could've known what was going to happen on Tarsus IV.

Watching over Michael felt like second nature and that's what confused him the most. It felt natural to want to keep an eye on her, while she slept and had dreams of god knows what.

There was a strange balance between the two of them, one he couldn't deny. He had sought her out, he wasn't sure why. He had heard only faint impressions and stories about the feared and fabled Captain Burnham and even less of his own other self.

Locked away in his cell, he had to train his ears to listen for any scrap of information that came along. When it did it was few and far between; weeks or even months apart from each other.

He had collected words like,

" _Butcher, traitor,_

 _Burnham, deceiver,_

 _Turncoat..."_

The only Burnham he even knew of that might fit some of these words was Michael Burnham the muniteer. He had never guessed he was in another universe until "empire" was thrown into the scattered and jumbled vernacular. His mind had created a thousand scenarios. And the longer he was trapped in his cage the more he came to terms with never being free.

Surprisingly being alone with no other distraction except his own memories and regrets became less torture the longer he was captured. He kept himself sane by focusing on the fact that he was alive. He had people back home who cared, people who would look for him.

Then he was found and everything that had kept him going disappeared. No one had been looking for him, no one cared, no search parties or even a funeral without a body.

No one looked because to them he wasn't lost, he was safe and sound.

The fact he had spent ten months in a cramped cell with only the hope that the people he had worked hard in his life to form relationships with were out there scouring space for him evaporated into thin air.

Despite being found, his hope was lost.

As Gabriel watched Michael sleep he felt pity for her and in a strange way, jealousy. Her ship and crew had stayed behind for her, they had looked for her putting themselves in danger in a universe that was hostile in every way it possibly could be. And he had been left to rot.

 _No, it's not her fault, you can't resent her for something that isn't her fault,_ he tells himself.

The bastard had even been drinking his bourbon, destroying his relationships, ruining the reputation he spent a lifetime building. Gabriel had used the training simulation to take out his aggression, however he hadn't told anyone he had made a duplicate simulation... one that didn't involve Klingons but a hologram that looked like him but wasn't.

In this simulation Gabriel would battle himself, killing him again and again taking his revenge.

When he went to the holodeck he had every intention of repeating the murder of his other self. But then he had come across Michael. He had discovered more about her and even himself from the encounter than he realized until he was inviting her to dine with him.

Gabriel wasn't sure why he had. Maybe because he couldn't bare to see her pain, for some other unknown reason he couldn't put a name to.

Perhaps it was the way she tried to be strong even when she was clearly breaking apart. He had done the same once, with Baylana. He had pushed her face so far from his mind he feared he would forget her.

He knew what a fresh bleeding heart felt like.

What made it more difficult was the fact she was bleeding for _him_. The man who had destroyed and taken so much from him. It left a sickening, hollow feeling inside his gut.

He felt Michael shift next to him, he had propped her legs onto his thighs. He glanced at the half empty bottle of bourbon and clenched his fist.

"I'm sorry." Michael says, moving to sit up. He places a hand on her leg, gently and he doesn't know why he did. She stills under his touch, he relaxes his hand.

"Don't apologize."

Michael dares to glance at him, he's looking at the glass in his hand.

"You know I knew Captain Georgiou," Gabriel says and he moves his hand as she sits up.

"Tarsus IV, right?" Michael asks and he nods, a small smile playing at his lips.

"Yeah. That was a shit show." He adds, raising his glass to his lips, savouring the taste. It tastes like home.

"She only talked about it once," Michael says, she reaches for his glass and he holds it for a moment before allowing her a sip. "She never mentioned you. I would've remembered when I met him."

"It was a hard time for both of us," he says. "We both lost in our own ways."

"Did you lose someone?" Michael asks him, his only answer is a slow nod and a broader smile that's one of remembrance.

Gabriel lets the memory of Baylana's face wash over him, her smile, he can still see it as if it were the first time. That night at the tavern was light years away now. He had mourned her, he had loved her and would've given up everything to settle down with her.

He had rebuilt himself after Tarsus IV. He had promised himself he would never have to do that again. And here he was, sharing what was left of his bourbon with his foe's lover. And he was abnormally comfortable with that.

"Here," he says filling the glass again and handing it to her. "It's better than drinking alone."

Michael took another sip, she didn't normally drink. But these were far from normal circumstances.

It was warm, it had a bite to it she enjoyed. She had never been able to describe exactly what her Gabriel had tasted like until now.

He tasted like his bite had felt.

"Thank you for this." Michael finds herself saying, looking down at the amber liquid and handing the glass back to him. His lips touched where hers had been, he could swear it was still warm.

"Hey, it's the least I can do. Given what we've both been through." He says kindly.

"Let's not compare woes, it won't do either of us any good." She tells him and he agrees.

Besides, he knows they've both already done that silently.

They drank, they talked a little. He even told her a few dirty jokes that made her blush and chuckle under the haze of the alcohol. Her laugh was light, luminous and rare in the dark terrane he had found himself in.

"Wait, I have one more," he says taking the glass back from her, their fingers brushing and he ignores the way he has all night the way it heats his blood.

"No, I don't think I can handle anymore of your jokes." She tells him, holding up a hand but he chuckles, already finding the punch line and he can't help himself.

"What does the sign on an out-of-business brothel say?" He asks, taking her fingers in his hand. She _doesn't_ ignore the way he's leaning in, buzzed and his cheeks slightly pink. They're not drunk but they're on their way and even farther up the path of bad decision making.

Michael swallows and shakes her head.

"What does it say?" She asks and he laughs a little before answering,

" _Beat it_. We're closed." He continues to laugh as she flushes, it tickles her cheeks. "Didn't know you were so easily..."

He stops himself, tucking his bottom lip under his teeth and she can't help herself from pressing her fingers tighter between his.

"What?" She asks him, wanting him to continue. His voice is changing, it's becoming her Gabriel's again.

"Flustered." He says, slowly sobering up, enjoying the way her fingers slide against his own. The intimate way they fit together.

"There weren't many exposures to such caprice on Vulcan." She answers.

"Not even... on the _Charon_?" He asks and he's relieved when she doesn't tense. That she doesn't pull away. But the bourbon is giving them both courage.

"That was different." Michael tells him.

"From what?"

Michael blinks slowly; there's something in the way he holds her hand, the way his eyes dance over her face, always landing on her lips. As if it were an end game.

They're strangers once again; someone pressed the reset button on their lives. They were back to square one. But suddenly square one doesn't seem so bad. But that was the booze talking.

"From everything." She finally answers before pushing her lips against his.

Gabriel cups the back of her head, her hair soft and wispy. His fingers move down the nape of her neck, he returns her kiss in short time. He feels her moan faintly, it spurs him on. It had been too long... so long without a touch of comfort or kindness. He feels greedy, wanting to take whatever affection she's giving him.

 _This is bad, Gabe,_ he tells himself. He pulls at the zipper of her training jumpsuit, sliding it down only a few inches before stopping. He's getting ahead of himself.

Michael takes the reins from him, moving to kiss below his ear, remembering how his counterpart had enjoyed that. It worked on both men. He presses his hand to her lower back as she begins to lean over him. He's breathing heavily, trying to get the situation under control.

But he couldn't. He now had a taste for her.

Michael's own fingers pull at his zipper, unclasping it slowly, the teeth separating from one another. She lowers her hips to his and he grips her waist, moving her slowly against him.

It was almost too much. Gabriel wasn't sure how he could perform given it had been so long.

This was moving too fast. He didn't know her, she didn't know him. One night stands were from a younger life he lead. He had put that Gabe behind him a long time ago. Long before his ship was ambushed and his life was taken from him.

In a morbid way Gabriel almost felt this was coming full circle. He had killed his enemy in the holodeck many times, taking his rival's woman felt poetic.

That wasn't him though, she had already been through so much. Unless she didn't care.

 _Fuck, she's insatiable,_ he thinks passionately as she wiggles her hips more firmly against his. Her hands spread across his chest, against the soft material of his black under shirt.

"Michael," he says as she descends on his neck again. "Maybe we shouldn't." He bites back a groan when her teeth graze his pulse. She doesn't answer him and he doesn't want to stop, not really. She ignores his suggestion, choosing instead to move his hands back to her chest.

He touches her through the semi-rough material, he feels her hard peak beneath and he feels himself strengthened by her wanton response; when was the last time he had been desired by someone?

But he can't. They're buzzed, and this is crossing so many lines. Technically he's still her superior. He's not a captain but he's not a bad guy. She's used to the bad guy, even if she loved him.

Taking her hands in his he applies the right amount of pressure to get her attention.

"We can't." He says and the look in her eye kills him. "Trust me I want to. But we're both in pain and I... I can't do this."

Gabriel removes Michael from his lap and rises, clearing the glass and the bourbon. He hears her stand up.

"I'm sorry-" he tries but she's already out the door. He leans against a bulkhead and decides to finish the bottle without the glass. He lets it burn and grip him. He pushes himself off the bulkhead and staggers his way to the bed. He looks to the empty space beside him and lays the bottle down as hollow company.

"Just you and me, old girl." He says sheepishly before drifting off into sleep.


	20. XX

XX

When the Federation ship docks with _Discovery_ it is a welcome sight and a relief. The war is still raging but they are a sight for sore eyes on both fronts. Of course the first topic of discussion is what the hell happened and what went wrong.

The brass that arrives are brought up to speed by Saru, however Vice Admiral Cornwell sees it imperative to bring together those most involved for a conference on the Federation ship.

Michael is included in the discussions, as it is unclear as what part she played exactly. Saru comes to her defense. She sits at a round conference table on the Federation ship _Hampshire,_ Captain- no, now Commander- Lorca is there as well. Admiral Cornwell and he had a more private reunion earlier.

There are admirals, vice admirals, Andorians and Tellerites. Sarek gave her the only fatherly greeting he was capable of but seeing him was enough. She warned him that when the deliberations had concluded they needed to have a private conversation.

"Specialist Burnham," Admiral Cornwell says, addressing not only Michael but the whole assmbly around them. "Is there anything you would like to add pertaining to your incarceration?"

Michael bit at her inner cheek. It _wasn't_ an incarceration... not entirely, not in the end. She wouldn't have stayed but she would have brought him home with her. Where they could have been a family... naively, she believes they could have made something of their lives together.

Gabriel watches her, but she doesn't look at him. He wants to tell her she needs rest, that she's overwhelmed and exhausted and that he could've persuaded Kat to let her off the hook. He wants to take Katrina aside and explain in no uncertain terms that Michael Burnham was off limits, that she had no way of escaping this other Lorca. But he can't say those things, he can't come to her defense because he has no reason to.

And he knows she wouldn't want him to.

"I was treated better than others." She answers, prim and proper and he can't help but admire her moxxie.

"Can you elaborate? Were you interrogated in order to discover weaknesses within Starfleet?"

Michael shook her head.

"The Terrans appeared to have no interest in entering our universe, there would be no gain."

"How do you know this for sure?" Admiral Cornwell persisted.

Michael didn't have to think about the answer; Gabriel could tell they were planned, practiced.

"The... other Lorca showed no interest." She answers, avoiding Gabriel's gaze but the tension was increasing. All eyes were on her and everyone was thinking the same thing: how did a prisoner have such keen insight into the mind of a man hell bent on taking control of an entire empire?

"Do you have any idea why this other Lorca went to such great risks to bring you back with him?" Admiral Cornwell asks.

 _Let it go, Kat,_ Gabriel thinks, he feels his fist clenching under the table.

"He needed me to get to the emperor. As I stated in my report." Michael says, he notices her shift in her seat. She's getting anxious and Kat is getting too close for comfort, for Michael and for him.

Kat doesn't know though, but that didn't mean she didn't have an imagination. That didn't mean that not everyone in this room in the same vein as Katrina hadn't thought the same thing...

"But once the emperor was essentially overthrown you offered to stay in exchange for the safety of the crew," the Admiral says, squarely. Michael only nods. "Then... forgive, Specialist Burnham, we all understand you have been through an ordeal but... what use did you serve once the other Lorca achieved his goal?"

Michael had no planned answer for what she saw as an incredibly personal question.

"I...I'm not sure I understand your question." Michael says, struggling through the words.

Gabriel sees the intake of breath Katrina is taking, ready to rephrase her question. He can't stand it. He seizes the opportunity.

Clearing his throat he rises.

"Excuse me, Vice Admiral, but I think a ten minute break might be prudent." He suggests, Michael finally meets his gaze as if in a silent "thank you". His expression is minute but she receives it nonetheless.

Thankfully, the Admiral does agree.

"What hell is going on with you?" Kat asks quietly.

"What kind of questioning is this?" He demands, his arms crossed, watching Michael subtly leave the room. He tells himself not to go after her.

"I'm trying to understand why an officer found guilty of mutiny would suddenly do an about face and stay behind with, not only a lunatic, but a fraud." Kat counters and he can't argue with her logic.

"She has her reasons." Is all he says but he sees the wheels in Kat's head turning already.

"Oh. And I assume she's divulged these reasons to you?" She asks, but he can tell when he's being interrogated.

"And if she has?" He says.

"Then it is your duty as an officer of Starfleet to report any indiscretions she might have mentioned."

Gabriel sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose for a moment.

"There are none. This goes far deeper than you realize and it doesn't even come close to her being a traitor. You're more wrong than you think you're right, Kat." He brushes past her to follow Michael into the corridor. Compelled, as if it were a mission.

He finds her pacing, the outside of the conference room deserted save for a few technicians here and there.

"Are you alright?" He asks her gently, as a friend. Nothing more. Not a man who had kissed her.

"It's too personal," she answers, her voice strained. "I understand the need to be thorough but..."

Gabriel touches her elbow and she ceases her anxious fidgeting.

"All those people," she says, looking to the closed doors. "I can't tell them or make them understand what it was like."

"I know. Trust me, I know." He says, trying to comfort her but she's a stranger. But he can't help himself. In a brief moment of mad panic he wonders what else is capable of transcending space and reality.

 _Christ Gabe, you've known this dame a day and you're already acting like a greenhorn,_ he thinks.

"You can do this, Michael," he says confidently. "You don't have to give details."

Just then the doors slide open and Sarek steps out.

"The admiral is ready to proceed." He says, his voice emotionless.

Thankfully, Admiral Cornwell does not press Michael for more details. Instead, the job of utilizing _Discovery_ becomes the main topic of discussion. The crew will rejoin the war effort, with the help and aid of the Klingon cloaking algorithm.

Gabriel requests to stay on board _Discovery,_ Katrina insists he's needed as captain but he declines the offer. He won't take another ship under his watch again. He can't bring himself to that. He should never have been captain. He was suited better for the job Captain Saru had given him.

But with Kat's rejected offer of Captain, instead she makes him first officer of _Discovery._ She argues she wants him closer to Saru so the Kelpian can learn from him first hand. Gabriel doesn't tell his new captain that he believes it's simply Kat putting him practically in the hot seat.

If Saru fails, he's captain of the ship. If Saru dies in the line of duty, he becomes captain... it was her way of not taking no for an answer while on paper it was a definite no.

When all is said and done, _Discovery_ follows the Federation ship out of any hostile territory to rejoin the fleet at a nearby starbase untouched by the Klingons.

It is during the second half of the ship's journey back to the homefront does Michael confide in Sarek. She tells him everything, leaving out the gory details but leaving in everything important. Including her early pregnancy, which she is still waiting to hear a summons from the CMO concerning it.

"Who else knows?" Sarek asks her.

"Cadet Tilly knows some but not all. The CMO will as soon as they get done going through the rest of the personnel physicals." She explains.

Sarek sits back in deep contemplation, which as a child always feared her. But now she ached to know what direction she must go. He was more than her father now, he was her compass.

"You have been subjected to a great deal more than you should have in your young life," Sarek begins. "You have lost, gained and lost again. You have have been changed by your experiences but the person I see before me remains, at their core, the same."

Michael breathes a sigh, relief and validation.

"I feared you would judge me." She admits to him, he frowns.

"I have no reason to judge you," he says, as kindly as he can. "You are my daughter. I would support you in anything you wish."

Michael takes his hand in her own, he eventually returns the gesture. He has missed her, worried for her these past six months. Knowing at first she was held captive by the Lorca in disguise troubled him, but now knowing the whole story made him only wish he had been able to protect her from harm and heartbreak.

"Your moral quandary is not entirely foreign to me," he tells her, feeling for the first time he can be entirely open to her, at least in this regard. "How does one find themselves romantically entangled with someone they should- by their very nature- detest?"

Michael nods.

"I shouldn't have been so naive." She laments but Sarek shakes his head.

"Love is the acutest kind of emotion that all beings feel in some capacity. Whether it is for themselves or for others, love is not only universal it is, in my experience not logical, but cosmic."

Michael had never heard him speak so poetically before. Amanda had loved him for some reason, she was beginning to see it more now. It wasn't a science experiment, their marriage. It had been founded in love, deeply and truly. The kind Michael had never understood until now.

"I do not know how to balm the wound you feel at present," Sarek says. "But time is a mysterious thing. You should pay it heed, let it work and eventually you will see that how you felt was not a waste. It was a lesson. Lessons can be painful, Michael. But it is through them we find purpose and a reason to go on."

At the same time Michael's conversation was ending, Gabriel Lorca stood in the holodeck.

"Computer, simulation Lorca 2-7-6." The holodeck transformed to the Klingon simulation, but there were no Klingons. This was his own personal take on it. He would not be killing Klingons today. Instead, a replica of himself appeared, still and lifeless.

"Computer, give avatar vocal response attributes, using copy of my voice print." He waits for the computer, it beeps and confirms the order.

Gabriel steps forward, circling the hologram.

"Computer, give him personality... xenophobic, anti-Starfleet and Federation. Make him a real asshole."

"Request unconfirmed, be specific." The computer retorts in it's monotone way.

"Alright. Contemptible."

Once again the computer confirms his request.

"Begin training simulation."

The simulation comes to life, brandishing a phaser rifle.

"Come to kill me?" The copy of himself says, raising his weapon. His voice is clunky, the computer not used to giving the simulations such verbal life. "I'll have your head, Starfleet."

Gabriel shoots from the hip with his phaser and the simulation disappears. His hand is shaking. Suddenly killing himself has lost its appeal in a way.

"Restart program." He says, he appears again, using the same weapon and the same strange, diabolical smirk.

"Come to kill-"

Gabriel fires again, the replica disappearing once more. He groans. Like a loss of appetite the pleasure he had derived from murdering a copy of his counterpart has faded. He can't take pleasure in it now. Not when someone had cared for _him_ , not when there had been something to care in _him_.

Michael had made it personal. She had given him life when before he had been nothing more than a holographic image for him to inflict his rage. He tried to remind himself that this was the man who had stolen so much from him, ruined so much. But it wasn't the same knowing he had cared for Michael and she in turn had loved him.

"Restart program." He orders, only this time when the other him appears he pauses the program. He stares at the likeness. What could there have been in this monster she had loved?

The CMO sent a transmission to Michael asking to see her. She dreaded it but now the time had come. She arrives in sickbay, the doctor is a middle aged woman, Dr. Gayle. She's a wafey, human female but beneath her gentile surface and warm edges is a sharp and quick witted woman.

"Alright, Michael, I just want to go over a couple things," Dr. Gayle says, pulling Michael's chart up on her tablet. Michael's feet dangled over the edge, barely brushing the floor. She just wished the woman would get it over with and tell her what she already knew.

"First: your a little underweight for what I'd like to see, so let's try to introduce you to food again, ok?" Dr. Gayle joked, she was making her feel comfortable. Not that Culbar hadn't, the differences were obvious but appropriate. Dr. Gayle proceeded to go over her vitals and other important informations adhered to the tablet.

"Now, the obvious," Dr. Gayle says, clasping her hands together, asking the computer to bring up a force field around doctor and patient giving them privacy. "I am aware of what you went through so I'll cut to the chase: when did you learn of your pregnancy?"

Michael takes a slow breath,

"Before coming home. It's early stages as far as I know."

Dr. Gayle touches Michael's wrist.

"Were you forced or coerced?" She asks, Michael knows why the doctor has to ask but once again it's people assuming the worst. But Michael can't entirely fault them for that given the circumstances and the little information they had and who held her captive; of course they would assume he was capable of assaulting her. But she wasn't about to tell every individual member of the crew the whole story.

"No. It was consensual." She says.

"You know who the father is then?"

"Yes. He's dead."

Dr. Gayle removes her hand from Michael's wrist, picks up her tablet again.

"Seeing as you're still early in your pregnancy, I want to make you aware of your options. Have you thought of what you want to do?"

Michael nods.

"I'm keeping it."

Dr. Gayle shifts on her rolling stool.

"Then termination and even adoption is out of the picture?" Something in the room has shifted, Michael can feel it.

"Why would I terminate?" She asks.

"It would be a reminder of all the pain you've gone through." Now the doctor doesn't sound like she's coming from a professional place.

"That will be for me to decide." Michael says protectively.

"Michael," Dr. Gayle begins tentatively. "You have already overcome being a social outcast. Do you really want-"

Rising Michael orders the force field to disappear.

"This conversation is over. As far as my child is concerned I shall seek out a second opinion, your predecessor would be ashamed." Michael sneers before making a professional exit.

A paranoid part of Michael wonders if it hadn't been Dr. Gayle who had been the coerced one in all of this. Michael knew she only had hours, maybe, before the CMO reported her findings.

The idea Starfleet would try to do her child harm crept back to the forefront of her mind. She tries telling herself it's only the leftover feeling of living in that other universe that has her on edge. She's making herself see danger at every turn.

But she must protect her child at all costs. It's all she has left of Gabriel. He would've killed the doctor for suggesting such a thing, she wouldn't take such a drastic measure but she also wouldn't let his name be besmirched either.

Michael knew and even understood why they crew felt the way they did in regards to her Gabriel. But only because they hadn't seen who he who becoming.

Would he have been a good father? Michael can only tell herself yes.

On the bridge she's returned to her duties; she can't help but watch Saru for any sign he already knows. His hands will be tied. He will have to report back to Starfleet.

Michael feels a familiar shadow over her shoulder.

"You good?" Gabriel asks her, low and saving face by leaning over her console as if they were conversing about work instead of what was troubling her.

She notices how the crew look at them out of the corner of her eye. She doesn't want to taint this man with what the crew already believes to be true about her.

She curtly nods.

"Right as rain, sir." She answers.

"You sure? You've been running the same diagnostic for ten minutes." He points out.

Embarrassed, she clears her throat.

"The lag is interfering." She rebuts.

"Because if anything is the matter we can discuss it after our shift." He suggests.

Michael knows she shouldn't give in, but that doesn't mean she won't.

"The same place as before?" She asks after a time. She hears he sigh quietly.

"Ladies choice." Is all he says, almost flirtatiously before moving back to his own station.

Michael's stomach flutters.

 _Damn it,_ she thinks before deleting her diagnostic and beginning again. This time with faster results. She glances at him behind her, he's working but meets her gaze only for a moment.

They're only shipmates, she tells herself. He's taking pity on her, she thinks almost sullenly. But she can't deny he's taking a keener interest than she would've expected from him. Michael couldn't exactly see his angle or what he hoped to gain.

The other night he had rejected her physical advances, now he wanted... she didn't know. Like his counterpart he could be highly aloof. Perhaps even more so this time around.

At least in the end she had known where she stood with her Gabriel; with this other man, who was a still a stranger in so many ways, she had no idea.

Michael strangely wished Terran Landry were here to give her advice. But now Michael had to wade these waters alone. It terrified her.

She dresses down when she meets him at his quarters, he has the same Vulcan soup from the night before ready on the table. He pulls the chair out for her, she's thankful he didn't go so far as to put a rose in the middle of the table.

"I remembered you enjoyed this," he says, gesturing to the soup. He seems nervous. "I... hope you like it. Not that I cooked it or anything..."

There's a pregnant awkward pause. She smiles softly.

"It's lovely." She tells him, he visibly relaxes; his shoulders lower and he sits up a little straighter.

"Great." He says.

Her Gabriel had never been awkward or nervous. But she found it didn't bother her. Because this wasn't her Gabriel after all.

"Thank you for interfering during the deliberations," Michael says, bringing her spoon to the soup. "It was kind."

"I'm a glutton when it comes to doing the right thing," he tells her harmlessly. "You're welcome."

Michael notices he hasn't replicated anything for himself.

"Aren't you hungry?" She asks him and he shakes his head.

"No. Honestly, I just wanted an excuse to see you smile again, the soup from the other night seemed to make you happy."

Michael hadn't been expecting such an utterly sweet sentiment. She's at a loss for words, she looks down.

"That's... very kind." She says, bringing the spoon to her lips and savoring the taste.

And Michael feels guilty. He's being so kind to her, attentive, supportive when he has no reason to be. She wouldn't admit it out loud but she was hoping perhaps he had changed his mind about sleeping with her. He had been flirting with her on the bridge, now he was replicating her favorite soup because he wanted her to be happy.

She felt guilty because she had been planning on using him, forgetting he was a different man. Forgetting he might not have the same intentions she did.

"I want to show you something," he says when she's finished her soup. He doesn't think about it and takes her hand in his, leading her to a small desk... closer to his bed, but she knows it's not intentional. "Here." He hands her a small piece of paper, roughly the size of a fortune.

It's old, wrinkled and the paper is soft with age. She gently opens it and reads it,

" _Hate is never conquered by hate. Hate is conquered by love."_

The sentiment is beautiful.

"It's what got me through a lot those nine months," he says, "I thought maybe you could use it now."

Michael looks at the fortune, aghast, shaking her head and pressing it back into his rough palm.

"I... I can't accept this." She tells him, he wraps his hand around her wrist.

"Yes you can," he insists, but she pushes harder against his chest the paper caught between her thumb and index finger.

"You're being childish." She says and he chuckles and shrugs, still holding her hand against him by the wrist.

"I thought I was being boyishly charming." He counters, making a small step closer, this time in her personal space. It's then they're at unequal height.

"What are we doing?" She asks him after a moment, his thumb moving over her skin.

"Flirting, rather harmlessly." He says honestly and she blushes.

"I thought you said you couldn't do this," she says and he huffs a breath.

"Now, now, Miss. Burnham, flirting and making passionate love to you are two different things."

Another swarm of butterflies assault her belly, her core growing wet under his husky voice.

He's affectionately honest I'm a way that's different from her Gabriel; he had simply stated directly with what he wanted, this Gabriel deflected while also being forthcoming.

"That's rather bold of you, Commander." She replies, using his rank to tease him.

"Well, when you get to be my age you learn a thing or two." Michael wants to experience first hand exactly what he could teach her.

"How to stay cool under fire," he says, plucking the piece of paper out from between her fingers, placing it back on the desk, finally taking her hips in his hands and bringing her practically flush against him. "How to pretend you're not intimidated when you really are."

"Are you intimidated now?" She asks, her fingers fanning out across the expanse of his chest.

"You could say that." He admits, smiling.

"What is the best course of action?"

Gabriel thinks for a moment, tilting his head to the side, a strange smirk playing at his lips. He knows what he wants to say will fluster her, force her to blush, but he wants to see it again.

"Full spread." He answers and it has the reaction he was hoping for. She looks away, suddenly interested in his living quarters. He doesn't want to lose her to her own thoughts, so he leans in pressing his lips to her ear. "I like seeing you blush." He tells her, warm against her neck and his whisper travels down her back.

"Why?" She asks him.

"I don't know. But it's sexy."

Michael stifles a laugh, then it dies entirely in her throat when his lips descend onto her neck, and it's not gentle right away, there's teeth and a tongue to sooth her. She's taken by surprise by the flurry of emotions that run through her. His hands hold her tightly against him, his manhood a hard rod pressing into her belly.

It's almost too much, the way he simply kisses only her neck, grinding his hips into hers in a mock of actual love making. She wiggles her legs together to soothe the growing ache there, and then he travels to the other side of her night, giving it the same attention.

Michael didn't realize just how much pleasure she could derive from such a simple act. His hands moved lower to cup her backside, pulling her further against his length. She moans, feels him turning them until he's pressing her into his bed. He kisses her fully on the mouth and she cries out, thrusting her tongue to meet his.

His kisses are deep and slow and oh so very thorough.

Gabriel didn't think he could deny himself, it had been so long and he was more attracted to her than he thought. He kept telling himself he wasn't going to let things get too far; that he'd stop them before it got out of hand. But he knew how thin of an excuse that way.

Growing thinner once she rolled them over, insisting on taking the lead. She leaned him back against the pillows, his uniform jacket had been forgotten a while ago, wearing the regulation half black turtleneck. Michael could feel every sturdy muscle and see every line of masculine rigidity.

"Are you going to stop me again?" Michael asks, a hair's breadth away from his lips.

"Depends." He answers.

"On what?"

Gabe answers her by gripping her thighs, spreading them over his own waist and rotating his hips to align with her core. She trembles as he moves her against him, once again in a mock effort to simulate actual love making.

With his lips near her ear again and her hips moving in time with his, he says, "On whether on or not I cum before having the chance at being inside you."

Swallowing Michael, for some reason, saw this as a challenge. Kissing him chastely one last time she kisses his neck, right below his ear where she knows it will make him strain, squirm and moan. She accomplishes all three.

Then... she moves further down, until she is between his parted legs and she can't help but adore the sweet little hiss she hears him make when she palms his hard length through his trousers. He does his best to remain relaxed, to provide a calm demeanor, but he's failing.

His head lolls back, eyes closed as she in turn provides him with tantalizing pleasure, building up inside him to the point it's almost painful. He hears and feels her releasing him, he bites his teeth together, grinding his mollers so hard he might grind them into dust.

Michael takes him into her hand, her movements slow but purposeful and as if on autopilot his hand clasps her shoulder when her mouth descend on him. Gone is the hope of any self control as she tortures him with her mouth. He clenches his eyes shut tight, if he opens them then the game is really over.

"Michael..." he breathes, barely above a whisper.

He didn't do things like this, not anymore... he's not a young man, hasn't been in a long time. But fuck she reinvigorates him, touches him and wants him. It is unbelievable, near mind blowing.

Gabe can feel himself getting closer but he doesn't want her to stop nor for it to end. It's been so long after all. He holds himself off from cumming, but the way her tongue tickles the underside of his cock nearly sends him over the edge; he has to stop her, gently.

While he recovers she undresses, he watches her slow movements with the gaze of a predator caught. He can't help himself and strokes his cock slowly to her. She blushes when he does, he stops himself from raising his brow...

 _She just went down on me but seeing me touch myself,_ that _makes her blush,_ he thinks to himself.

"Come here." He says quietly, she rejoins him on the bed and removes his trousers entirely. He lays over her, brushing a hand over her cheeks as he kisses her, slowly bringing her tongue to dance with his own. While he kisses her, distracting her with his lips, he begins sliding himself inside her. He feels her clamp down on him, her nails digging into his shoulders and her mouth tearing itself from his.

She feels soft, like heaven, like a homecoming. Like the search party that was never looking for him, she feels like rescue and deliverance.

"Am I going too fast?" He asks her and she shakes her head.

"Not fast enough." She tells him and he knows then he won't hurt her. He never could. He could never imagine having the desire to cause her pain. He only wants to heal her and heal with her.

Finding a new found resolved strength he positions himself comfortably for them both before driving into her, deeply stoking her withering fire until it's a roaring blaze again. She's in torment because it's not _him_ , it's not her Gabriel.

Her Gabriel was a fallen angel, with his demons a plenty.

This Gabriel was an angel risen from the dead, a revenant of her dead lover. He wasn't here to haunt her, he was here to save her.

She pants against his chest, burying her face there and listening to his heart beat. Even that didn't sound as her lover's had. It had a song unique to its owner. And yet both hearts seemed to play for her.

Gabe leans back to watch her, her eyes pressed closed, sweat forming at her hairline, her lips parted but a little... and that's when he sees it. He blinks to make sure what he is seeing isn't some trick of the light. But no, it's there, like a fucking fingerprint on her.

It's a goddamn bite, red and bruised and he can even make out the point of a canine. He swears if he put his mouth there it would be a perfect fit... it was her love life with his counterpart in a fleshy nutshell.

Something rips through him then, the taste of bitter jealousy he hadn't entirely given his attention to clings to his mouth.

 _Make her forget him,_ he thinks wildly. He isn't sure how, until it comes to him.

Gabe stops abruptly and her eyes open, she touches his face concerned.

"What's wrong?" She asks him and he shakes his head.

"This... I'm not doing this right." He says, absentmindedly.

Michael chuckles, breathy and light.

"You're doing just fine." She assures him, kissing his chin. He can't tell her what he actually means.

"No. Slower." He says and she doesn't understand what he means.

If what she has said of the Terran world was true, then every moment she thought would be her last. Every stolen kiss or time she made love to him was fraught with the possibility it would be the last time. But they don't have to worry about that here. They are safe, no one is coming to kill them.

So Gabe does take things slow.

And now it is Michael who is in torment. His thrusts are still deep, still finding that aching little spot inside of her. But they're slow, his blunt fingertips teasing her clit to the point she's about to cum until he stops, cutting her off. He wants to make it last, but she needs it to be quick. Not just for his sake but her own, she needs him not to be sweet...

A dark look changes her face when she figures out what he's doing.

"Don't play with me." She warns him, another deep thrust causes her to squint.

"You don't seem to mind." He replies, kissing her again, matching the actions of his hips and his fingers tease her again, and she almost tips over the edge into bliss before he pulls her back again.

Releasing a frustrated growl, she attempts to take back control, trying to move him onto his back but he sets himself against her firmly.

"No you don't." He taunts, holding her down.

"Please," she begs him and he hardens further, he's not sure how much longer he can last either. But he can't let her know that. It isn't easy, not when she begs him so perfectly.

Michael never had to beg her Gabriel to let her finish, had never been so close and yet so far away from cumming. He had always given into her need, but this man prolonged it on purpose. It annoyed her, and turned her on even more.

Gabe could feel her getting wetter the more he stimulated her clit, he could feel her flutter and clench around his cock it almost hurt, but in all the most sensual ways it could.

Michael needed to finish; the longer he made love to her the easier it was to fall for him.

There was still so much he didn't know about her.

Leaning up on her elbows she presses her lips to his collarbone, dragging her teeth along the bone and she savors how he trembles and the way his sweat lingers on her tongue.

"Please," She whimpers again, her breath hitching when he thrusts harder and a little faster. His control is wavering. "Please, let me cum. I need to..."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, god... _make_ me cum."

Well, she begged nicely.

Gabe scoots her back until a pillow rests under her bottom, as soon as the new angle is just right he gives in to his lust and his slow love making turns into a flurried fucking and claiming of her.

The change of pace is sudden and she holds on tighter, his thumb rubbing her swollen clit roughly in hot circles and she's trembling harder than before.

"Yes... I'm..." she can't even speak, her voice is gone and he groans loudly when he feels cum around him, he can even feel it trickle down her thighs and onto him.

It's his undoing and he resists the urge to bite her exactly where his counterpart had because he's not that type of man. He's taken her body, he doesn't need to mark it.

He's a good man, he reminds himself in the aftermath. They didn't do anything that either of them didn't want. But he cannot deny he feels guilty. This wasn't about taking something from a man who had taken so much from him. It might have been a terrible thought at first but Gabe knew this was more than that.

He wonders who she saw herself making love to. The thought hadn't crossed his mind when they had first begun but now it flits across his mind, grabbing on and unwilling to let go.

And when the guilt washes away he continues to torture himself with thoughts similar to the one before. He can't help but wonder who took more advantage of whom.

The thought nearly sends him into a tailspin, until she's snuggling closer to his side. She's tired, half asleep. Or so she appears. He wonders if she's feeling as he does.

What was happening? Things hadn't been easy upon his return to his own universe but this was not expected. What were the odds?

A trillion to one? A million? Did it even matter?

Fate, destiny, odds or just plain dumb bad luck, either way he found little sleep. One comfort he took despite it not aiding in his search for rest was the way her warm breath tickled his side as she slept.

Gabe let her stay and didn't disturb her slumber. He was, after all, a good man.


	21. XXI

XXI

When Saru calls him to his ready room the hour is early, Michael still asleep beside him. As first officer he knows when her next duty shift is, so he knows she can afford to sleep a little longer. He showers, dresses and promptly arrives on the bridge; with a nod of his bald, Kelpian head his captain gestures to the ready room.

"I wish to discuss a delicate matter with you," Saru begins, then pauses. "Tea?" Gabe shakes his head, he's seen how the Kelpian takes his tea and though he finds Captain Saru admirable, amiable and extremely pleasant and intelligent... he can't get past the salt.

Saru sips his salty tea and thinks, naturally making a little clicking sound.

"It has to do with Specialist Burnham," Saru says at which point Gabe tries not to show his hand.

Did someone see them? Now he knows his goose was really cooked.

"As you may know she was visibly shaken by the deliberations the other day. I myself only know bits and pieces of what she went through. But recently something has come to light which illuminates many things about her recent behavior and the company she keeps."

Gabe swallows subtly, his throat suddenly dry and his uniform too tight. He had never been issued any kind of discipline before, not really. A few arguments with superiors but all around his record was impeccable.

He knew he shouldn't have been so foolish as to invite her to his quarters. Yes, they weren't the captains quarters but crews liked to talk, even if it was about one of their shipmates who was well liked. Gossip was incurable no matter the century.

"Captain, may I speak freely?" He asks when Saru pauses to sip his tea.

"Of course, I encourage it." Saru says kindly and it doesn't help how Gabe feels.

In fact it makes him feel worse. That he could at such an early point during his fresh start fuck it up so badly under a new captain who, in many ways, would benefit from his guidance. Well, he could kiss all that goodbye now.

"I would like to apologize for my behavior. It's unprofessional and unbecoming of a Starfleet officer. I willingly take any punishment you divvy out. But... I request that Specialist Burnham not be sanctioned for my own conduct."

Saru frowned and tilted his head, clicking again, setting his teacup down on his desk.

"Are you... admitting to it?" Saru asks carefully. Gabe nods.

"Completely, sir."

"You're admitting to being the father?"

Gabe feels his heart stop and his stomach disappear from his gut. His spine turns to jello and for a moment he's back in that cell again, alone and cramped with the fear the air might be sucked out at any moment; his jailers cackle in the background that he's actually in an airlock, that their fingers might accidentally slip and push the eject button...

"I... beg your pardon, sir?"

"The CMO spoke to me yesterday informing me of Specialist Burnham's pregnancy."

 _Her... what?_ He thinks.

"Sir, I must confess I am confused." Gabe says, his voice low and he forces himself to maintain eye contact.

"Are you telling me you are involved in some sort of illicit affair with Specialist Burnham?" Saru asks more strongly, however his voice sounds protective at the mention of her name.

Gabe shakes his head.

"No... I mean... Captain, please, I need some sort of clarification." Gabe says, he feels himself backed into an invisible corner.

The word "pregnant" still echoes in his ears.

Grinding his teeth, Saru picks up a tablet off his desk and hands it to Gabe, he takes it with two hands shaking.

"The CMO, Dr. Gayle, reports that Specialist Burnham is at least six weeks pregnant." Saru explains more clearly. Gabe breathes a shaky sigh of relief. He's not the father, he couldn't be.

He knew it was impossible, they only slept together last night for the first time.

Not unless miracles happened and he traveled back in time and wasn't aware- then it hits him. It does explain all of Michael's behavior. He is and isn't the father in more ways than one.

"Captain, as you have so clearly clarified for me let me clarify for you," Gabe begins, handing Michael's medical chart back to Saru, it felt too personal to have it in his hands. "Yes. I have crossed a line and slept with Michael Burnham. However, the math doesn't add up. I'm not the father of her child. Six weeks ago I was just being rescued by _Discovery's_ crew. It's impossible."

Saru sighs and places the tablet back onto his desk, his hand lingering over it.

"You're right. I jumped to an illogical conclusion," Saru begins carefully and he adjusts his uniform jacket, clearing his throat. "However, what you have just admitted to me will take some thought on my part."

"As I said, Captain, I will take whatever punishment you see fit to assign me. But... damn it, she's been through enough." Gabe says ardently. Saru simply nods in agreement and dismisses Gabe, who takes a position on the bridge while his captain thinks over what he must do.

There is still a war going on. A child born in war is no childhood at all. He forces his anger aside that she didn't tell him, there was no way she couldn't have known, not with the way she was acting. He didn't know her very well but what he knew of her told him this wasn't normal behavior for her.

Was she trying to trap him? The DNA test, unless delved deeper into, would've shown on the surface he was a viable candidate to be the father. His attitude is gruff towards the crew and everyone notices it but he ignores their reactions. Now is not the time to play nice. They're trying to win a damn war.

Hours tick by and Saru still hasn't come out of his ready room. Michael begins her duty shift, entering the bridge, fixing the collar of her uniform as she moves to her station avoiding eye contact with him at all costs.

His own words ring in his ears... _she's been through enough._ But it doesn't stop him from wanting to scream at her.

For a moment he thinks about how beautiful she looks, she _is_ glowing. Enchanting, even. But then he remembers his rage, his anger towards her. He lets it over take him.

"Specialist Burnham," he says so that the whole bridge crew can hear him. "Is it not Starfleet protocol to arrive on duty properly dressed?"

Michael is startled by his tone and is at a loss for words. He's looking for any reason to exact his anger on her.

"Sir?" She questions and she glances briefly to Keyla Detmer who only looks on sympathetically.

"I asked you a question, _Specialist_." He seethes, rising from the captain's chair.

Michael collects herself, hands folded behind her back.

"Yes, sir." She answers professionally, but she's biting her tongue.

"Then be sure that next time you are on duty you present yourself in a more competent attitude. You expect to beat the Klingons with your delta up your ass?"

The entire bridge is silent, but Michael can swear she hears the loud collective drum of their hearts. Lt. Bryce clears his throat awkwardly and Gabe shoots his a glare, the Lt. turns back to his work.

Keyla's fists clench at her consol.

"No, sir." She bites back.

"Get the hell off the bridge." He orders and Michael wavers. "Did I stutter, _Specialist_?"

Michael shakes her head, her eyes brimming with tears. She wants to ask what has changed, what she did wrong. Why he's suddenly turned on her in this cruel way, humiliating her in front of everyone. Even her Gabriel hadn't done that.

Michael's glassy eyes do nothing to abate his temper, in fact they enrage him further.

"What the hell even is that title?" He says, coming towards her, out of the corner of his eye he sees Owosekun rise. " _Specialist_ in what exactly?"

Michael blinks back her tears.

"I will take my leave now, sir." She says, turning and moving towards the turbolift. He watches her go and the moment the doors slide shut and her terrifyingly beautiful and sad form disappears he feels the first twinge of regret. But he can't let that go now. Turning to face Owosekun he points at her station.

"Back to work, Lt." He orders and he resumes his seat in the captain's chair. He looks to the ready room door, Saru is still contemplating behind it. He taps his control panel a few times for show, but there's nothing that needs doing at the moment.

Gabe tells himself she deserved it for what she did, for what she hid from him. He also squashes any chance that there was any gossip about them. And he knows he's done more than that. He's set fire to any chance that there could have been something more with Michael.


	22. XXII

XXII

"Owosekun, how are those scans coming along?" Gabe is met by silence, the natural sounds of the bridge fill in the void. Even Saru notices.

"Lt. Owosekun?" Gabe repeats her name, but he is once more met but, what he can only describe as, the silent treatment.

"Lt., the first officer asked you a question." Saru chimes in and the young woman swivels in her seat to face her captain, not giving Gabe the satisfaction of even acknowledging his existence.

"Scans are inconclusive, _Captain_." Owosekun answers, her attitude is crystal clear and Gabe can't help but push down his annoyance because he deserves it.

The incident wasn't spoken of to Saru, the bridge crew seemed to come to the decision to keep it to themselves. Most likely to hold over his head. He should've known better than to verbally attack Michael, let alone in front of her friends who had risked their lives to save her. But that didn't mean Saru hadn't noticed the emotional deviation the crew now had and expressed towards their commanding officer.

 _One month of this,_ he thinks morosely to himself. Much had happened in that time. Michael was not absent from the bridge crew however she spent more time doing her duty in engineering working closely with Lt. Stamets.

Gabe had assured Captain Saru that whatever had transpired between himself and Michael was sure to never happen again. After he outwardly expressed his feelings towards her in front of the crew, her close friends, he had purposely alienated himself. The company he did keep was the captain, but that remained purely professional.

Saru's decision to not report Gabe's indiscretion to Starfleet was appreciated but he still believed he deserved punishment, so he did what was easy and punished himself. Yes, he was feeling sorry for himself but he chose to isolation because he believed it wasn't only better for himself, but for everyone especially Michael. She hadn't deserved the treatment he had chosen to exact upon her. He felt ashamed for his action, therefore it made it ever more difficult to face her.

Gabe despised that he had to come to terms with the fact that the only man who ever truly deserved Michael was his counterpart; it stung him severely. His pride was wounded beyond measure but he kept telling himself that in time he would learn to simply move on.

And yet a heavy, suffocating feeling followed him throughout his day to day routine.

He ignored or outright declined invitations by Saru for dinner, he didn't partake in ship parties or events, not even birthdays.

The war was essentially at an end.

The Klingon prisoner L'Rell had been released after deliberations had taken place; she had played broker to any remaining Klingon houses who wished for a united empire instead of warring houses vying for ultimate power. In the end, she was practically elected their leader.

Lt. Ash Tyler had long ago been turned over to Starfleet, he resided in a penal colony on earth, living comfortably if not pleased to be incarcerated.

Despite the war coming to a close, Gabe reminded Saru that this was the time to be most vigilant. Any remaining Klingon factions who didn't believe in a united empire were their greatest threat now. They would come at any Federation ship with everything they had. They would be at their most ruthless and unforgiving.

Gabe was working late in his quarters, duty rosters and shift rotations were some of the more mundane tasks he chose to use as last minute work. Someone was at the door, without looking up from his desk he bid them enter.

"Yes?" He asks, not looking up.

"Analysis of this quadrant, sir." It's Michael, he freezes momentarily. It's the first time they've been alone since they slept together and he won't deny the memories that rise up in his mind without a second thought.

"Thank you." He replies.

"Where would you like it?" She asks, her tone professional.

"Here." He gestures to his desk.

 _Smooth, Gabe,_ he thinks as she hesitantly approaches the desk. She places the data strip down.

"Will that be all?"

"I thought I assigned this to Cadet Tilly." He says, still not looking up at her.

"She's studying for her officers training. I told her I would pick up the slack."

Gabe reaches for his glass, swallowing the remaining bourbon.

"You should be resting." He finds himself saying and he regrets it. Without even thinking he dove headfirst into personal territory. He wasn't his business when she did or didn't want to rest.

"I can't exactly shutter myself from my duties, sir." She replies.

Finally looking at her he suppresses a groan. She's not wearing her uniform, only her trousers and long sleeve turtleneck, she must have just come off duty, gone to her quarters and come here.

Her attire is not overtly sexy but it has the same effect on him all the same.

"Will that be all, sir?" She repeats and he can't help himself. The time of being an elusive coward are over.

"No. I think we should talk." He rises, dwarfing her considerably. Her eyebrow raises.

"If you're going to apologize then I accept. May I go?"

Gabe shakes his head.

"No. I want you to speak freely." He tells her but is met by the same stiff silence as if he were on the bridge. "Do I have to make it an order?" He adds when she says nothing.

"To quote Cadet Tilly, you were a shit-head." Michael says, without missing a beat.

"Apt assessment." He agrees. "Anything else?"

"I didn't tell you because I feared your reaction and then... everything had gotten out of control. Which isn't entirely your fault. I could've stopped at any time but the truth is... I didn't want to."

Gabe nods. He had known she hadn't been trying to trap him, he had always known deep down that hadn't been her motive. She had had no motive.

"I don't know why you feel the need to put me at a distance." Michael adds and he sighs.

"Because I'm a self-sabotaging fool, Michael." He says, sardonically.

"Are you afraid?" She asks him and he breathes out a strange sort of laugh.

"Of royally fucking this up? Absolutely." He admits. "Also, I'm afraid I won't live up to whatever expectations you might have of me. As far as I'm concerned, I'm not a good guy."

Michael scoffs at him and he frowns.

"You have no idea what a bad guy is," she says. "Remember, I've seen the worst of what you could be and I still..." she trails off, looking away.

"You still love him, don't you?" He already knows the answer. But she nods anyway.

"Yes. And I finally understand him in ways I couldn't before. And I understand how tormenting it is to love two people at once, even if one is gone. What was his pain has now become mine."

Gabe wraps his arm around her shoulders, she leans into his side and he rests his chin on the top of her head.

"You don't have to carry that alone." He tells her, she lays her hand flat on his stomach. "Will you come back to the bridge? No more of this back and forth between engineering and me." He's missed seeing her there, seeing her work tirelessly and diligently, he's missed just knowing she's there.

That he could look over to her station and see her.

Michael looks up at him.

"Are you going to be a shit-head?" She asks him and he can't help but laugh. He'll never get used to hearing her curse.

They lay side by side, his hand is on her hip. She wonders if he's hesitant to touch her growing stomach. He seems to avoid it directly but keeps his hand close at the same time.

"Can I ask what made you fall in love with him?" Gabe asks her, she runs the pad of her thumb over his fingernail.

"I didn't know I did until the very end," she says. "And he didn't believe me. Not at first. I hope in the very end he did. But to answer your question, I honestly don't know."

"What are the similarities like?" He can't help but ask and she thinks for a moment.

"Your tempers are fairly similar. You're a bit more prudish-"

"Prudish?" He repeats. She smirks.

"You told me you liked when I blushed but you don't realize how often you do too." Michael informs him. His eyes widen at that.

"I don't blush," he argues. "And for the record, I can be... crude."

Michael sits up and puts a gentle hand on his neck.

"It's different. I don't prefer one over the other." She assures him and he grunts a response.

"Anything else?" He asks, the question lingering in the air.

"Such as?" She waits and he shrugs.

"Ya know... equipment." He says, on his back now with his fingers clasped together resting on his stomach.

"You both prefer a phaser-"

"No, Michael, I mean... average, _above_ average..."

It clicks and Michael makes an obvious "oh" face, blushing and she knows he's enjoying that.

"Why does that matter?" She counters and he smiles.

"It does, trust me."

"You're both equally... gifted."

Before he can ask another stupid, macho question she silences him with a kiss.

 _Uh-oh, Gabe, crossing lines again,_ he thinks but he ignores that stupid upright- no- _prudish_ voice in his head. He'll show her prudish. He pulls her on top of him, he likes her on top. He likes that she enjoys being in control.

Gabe didn't consider himself overly dominant or a shy submissive. He just liked having sex like most men, he didn't have any strange kinks he kept hidden in his closet. He didn't have a superiority complex neither did he feel the need to prove himself anymore. But with Michael it was different.

Michael encourages him to part his lips and she coaxes his tongue to meet hers. He whines against her lips, her movements are unhurried. She's learned a thing or two about him since the first time they made love- one was that he prefered saying "making love" as opposed to "fucking".

Or maybe that was only in regards to her?

She's also learned that he enjoys kissing her almost as much as having sex with her. He doesn't mind when she seizes control where her Gabriel _needed_ to dominate her. And yet this Gabriel insisted on prolonging her pleasure rather than giving into it.

"I've thought about you," she tells him, kissing his cheeks and stifling a moan when he presses his cock into her. "I've thought about what I did for you." He clears his throat at the memory of her mouth on him. And Michael knows it's silly, that it's all male posturing and stroking his ego and she should feel guilty but she doesn't when she tells him,

"I never did that to him." He looks genuinely surprised and exhales a short laugh.

"That make me special?" He says, teasingly, she feels his hands on her ass, squeezing and grinding her harder into him.

"Maybe." Is all she can say, she's quickly forgetting how to even speak as he kisses her neck and moves his hand up her shirt, his hand is so large around her smaller breast, teasing her nipple and finally pushing her shirt up until he can suckle at her chest.

Michael holds his head to her and her own falls back. His hands seem to be everywhere, she feels herself getting closer to Gabriel than ever before. Somehow it's different and yet the same.

One hand on her hip guiding her movements against him, the other massaging her soft breast.

"Oh... yes." She whimpers and he plants kisses to her sternum and what little of her belly he can reach. She freezes when he kisses the area where her stomach will eventually grow. In a maddening moment, it's not this other Gabriel... it's _hers_.

The way he possessively presses his face there, the way he looks up at her like she's his queen and he her servant...

She's on the _Charon_ again and she has her Gabriel back. He's not dead, he lived, it was all a trick to save her...

But Gabe seems to notice she's gone somewhere else.

"You ok?" He asks, breaking the moment in half. But it's alright. She puts the pieces back together, forming a new image, a different picture that still makes her heart pound in her chest. It all still fits somehow.

He can still take her breath away. This Gabriel can be hers too.

"It's... it's perfect." Is all she says before kissing him again with a new found passion, forcing him to lean back and he has to catch up to her. She tears at his clothes like they're armor she can't figure out how to unravel, because she's impatient now. He steadies her hands and removes his shirt for her and she wastes little time in mouthing parts of his chest.

Seeing his moment, he takes control, rolling her onto her back. He takes off her shirt, removes her trousers and underwear together, he balls them into a haphazard mesh, dropping them onto the bed beside him.

Pushing her legs far apart he leans in, kissing the insides of her thighs. She's so willing to give in, she wants him so badly. And it's then she realizes she never _didn't_ want this Gabriel. She had hated herself and her body for desiring her Gabriel, and despite the sordidness of their affair, this time it feels naturally right from the beginning.

Gabe is clutched suddenly by an insecurity he won't please her. Sure, she seemed to more than enjoy it the last time they were together alone but this time he wanted to pleasure her in a different way. He pushes his doubts and uncertainty aside. It might have been cocky to think it in the moment, but he resolved himself that he was man enough to please her.

And he couldn't deny that he desired to kiss her _there_.

Her hand found his only free one, while the fingers from his other touched her clit and he gently blew over her opening. She clenches her hand, it's almost painful but he doesn't waste any time. Releasing her hand he lays his arm across her lower half, keeping her still while he gives into what he's wanted to do to her since he first saw her in her Starfleet blues.

Fuck, he hated that had been his first thought when she had run into him after she exited the turbolift. He had touched her shoulders and instantly felt an electric jolt that had seized his entire body, and he had practically rebuffed her comments because his reaction had been... _craving_.

When she would stand prim and proper at her work station on the bridge and behind her he would watch her, paying attention to his duties but distracted as he admired her... assets. There was something in the way she aptly, methodically and skillfully performed her function on the bridge he found incredibly arousing.

He wasn't the type of guy to go after Orion strippers but he didn't go for goody-two-shoes either. But there was something utterly intoxicating seeing her come undone after spending so long in control of herself. He wanted to wind her up until she was taut like a bow string, until she was asking- _begging-_ for him to stop. He wants to strip her of her Starfleet etiquette, bare her entirely.

It was all these thoughts and more that drove him to the brink of madness. She tastes like his favorite bourbon, the smell of morning dew back home.

" _Ah_ , you... you are very good." She whimpers, he feels his stomach tighten and he can't help himself, he feels more confident and virile. He can please her, he can make her feel things she might not have felt before. He doubles his efforts and if she had anything else to say the words died in a breathy moan.

He sets a steady pace, two fingers moving in a deep rhythm. He can feel her beginning to shake, that picture perfect, genteel, panficied demeanor beginning to crumble under his hands and mouth.

Gabe senses she is getting closer, he is tempted to give in to her, let her have what she really wants. But he's selfish in this moment and in a way, perhaps, even a little bit evil.

There was a dark side to him that she fell in love with and he felt himself giving into that part of himself he had never paid much attention to before. Sure, he felt it in his temper, when his blood got too hot in the heat of battle. But she was a different war entirely. She was blood, sweat and tears and he was lost in the sea of her ardor.

"Yes... don't stop." She whimpers, fighting the arm that tightens against her midsection, holding her down and keeping her firmly in place.

Gabe can't help but smirk as he passes over her clit one last time, long and slow before rising to his knees.

"You bastard." She hisses when releases her, but takes her hand and kisses her palm.

"You make me... Christ, I don't even know." He says and he's sure he sounds like an idiot. But she doesn't seem to care. She kisses the center of his chest and he holds her head there for a moment.

The ache to ravage her rises again, he pushes her onto her back gently before surprising her and moving her to lay on her side.

"Gabriel...?" She tries to question him but he kisses her shoulder, silencing her.

"Don't call me that," he says. "Only a few people call me Gabe, but I prefer that." Michael nods and warms against him as his hand reaches around to her front and he moans when her ass wriggles against his tender cock.

His hand cups her breast in his palm, small but round and perky. He lavishes her perfect neck with scorching kisses, licking her and tempted to mark her, but he refrains from that at least.

"You're a tease." She tells him, unsure of how she can touch him at this angle.

"I get the feelin' you like that about me." He whispers, his accent highlighted by his boiling lust for her. She doesn't deny it.

"Tell me what you want from me." He says, so desperate to be inside of her, to feel her around him, but he negates that a little longer. She said he was prudish, he argued he could be crude... but he would do more than that. He would be a carnal aphrodisiac she had no choice but to give into.

"Touch me." She whispers, turning to look at him over her shoulder as best she can.

His blue eyes the same and different, his pupils dilated to the point it looks like a black disc in a small blue ocean.

"Show me." He says, continuing to tease her. He keeps his eyes on her face but feels her hand bring his back to the sacred place between her legs; wet and swollen for him.

"Right there?" He whispers against her lips and she nods, her eyes closing a little.

"Yes."

"What else do you need?" He asks, his fingers slowly moving, not changing their pace and he swears he feels her get wetter than before, a gush of warmth coating his fingers.

"I... I need you inside me." She blushes furiously and this time she does look away, he doesn't mind. He simply rests his face in the back of her neck.

 _Now whose prudish,_ he thinks and suppresses a chuckle.

"Yeah? My fingers or my cock?" He asks her and she shakes harder, her head collapsing onto the pillow.

"Stop." She whimpers but he only increases his pace finally against her clit. She grips the sheets and he tightens his arm around her waist, pressing himself into her soft ass. "It's... oh, god."

"Show me." He says and he stops, and she exhales hard, glancing at him as he hovers over her shoulder. She looks at him queerly, he realizes she might not understand what he means, until he takes his hand away from between her legs and rests it on her soft belly.

"I... that would be-"

"Indecent? Shocking?" He teases and she nods slowly, looking away from him. He kisses her temple sweetly. "Do you touch yourself?" He asks her, prodding her further, that beautiful red hue he loves so much covering her whole body. And he's sure her matches her in tinge and complexion.

Dirty talk isn't a foreign thing to him, but with her it sets him on fire because of how he's sure he makes her feel. Maybe it does make her feel dirty, scandalous and immoral. But he also knows it awakens a passion inside of her, one that he won't let die.

"Yes." She finally answers.

"Do you make yourself cum?" The words don't sound like they're coming from him, like he's being possessed by someone else, but he can't stop himself. He needs to know. He needs to see it. The thought, the imagery nearly sends him over the edge.

Gabe watches her lick her lips and she nods as her answer. Fuck, it's sickening how much harder her confirmation of it makes him.

"Me too," he finally tells her and her eyes shoot to his as if she's surprised he would or does or... he's not sure. But he knows she's the most beautiful creature he's ever seen. "Seeing you on the bridge makes me hard, I have to stay seated not to give myself away," he goes on. "You have no idea the power you have over me."

The truth was, she did. And that's what frightened her. It didn't matter the universe, it seemed to Michael, she had all the power when it came to Gabriel Lorca.

Gabe watches her hand journey between her legs, she swallows nervously when her fingers make contact and he watches her face and her hand but can't keep his eyes on both.

He can't help himself and he adjusts his cock in his trousers, or at least that's what he told himself that's all it would be. Until he gives into the relief his own hand provides and soon the outline of his manhood is prominent and large and she can't seem to decide where to look either.

"I could cum watching you touch yourself." He admits and he watches as his words seem to boost her excitement further. He makes a mental note she only seems to stimulate her clit, rarely touching her opening despite it being slick and in need of attention.

"I'm... I'm close." She informs him.

"Don't stop, no matter what I do, don't stop." He says, it sounds like a gruff order. He moves her more onto her side again, for she had begun slipping onto her back. He releases himself from his uniform trousers, sliding his length between her legs.

Michael's hand doesn't stop, though she wants to end her suffering and give into her pleasure. But something in the way he speaks to her makes her unable to let herself give into that urge.

Gabe says nothing more as he presses himself inside of her fully, in one sharp thrust. She gasps strongly, her hand finally stilling.

"I said don't stop. That's an order." He says, his arm around her waist holding her flush against him. He doesn't move until he sees her hand beginning to flick her clit again, then his taking of her body begins anew. Yes, he wants to prolong her blissful agony but his thrusts are sharp and quake her to her bones.

Michael presses back against him, aching to feel him so deep, so full of him she doesn't think it's possible. He's powerful behind her, strong and solid. Cocky and aggressive, well built and using his larger hips to conquer her in delicious and powerful ways.

She feels his hand connect with her own, taking over and she's mollified by it. Michael reaches back to cup his face in her hand and she leans back to kiss him. He gives into it, conjoining not only their bodies but their tongues together in a mutual dance of wanton desire. She feels his sweat slick against her back, she smells them, feels his sweltering breath.

Gabe fucks her harder than he thought he was capable of and she takes it and gives it back to him. But as she begins to break apart under him and all around him, he feels gripped by a feeling so potent it shocks tears into his eyes.

 _I love you,_ he thinks and the thought startles him because he thinks it before he has the chance to truly process it. No, he's simply caught up in the moment of their shared connection. He can't love her... it's not possible. They're still strangers.

But it doesn't abate the fear that he does love her. _They_ love and _loved_ her. At different times, two different men who were one and the same and completely unlike each other all at once, loved the same woman two different times.

With odds like that, nothing else seemed to matter.

"Cum for me," he whispers against her earlobe. "Let me see you when it happens."

Michael shudders as his words bring her closer and closer, as his fingers rub her desperately, as he caresses her breast and pinches her nipple tenderly.

She says nothing to warn him of her impending orgasm, she doesn't need to. And he can't hang on any longer and lets himself go with her. He couldn't make himself wait anymore.

"Fuck!" He shouts, his teeth smashing shut, grinding together as his hips pump into her. He feels himself shoot his essence inside her warm, willing body. She takes his hand in hers as they both fall apart. His hips move a little longer, he thinks he's still hard for a brief moment... he couldn't be, he wasn't that young anymore.

He feels Michael wiping her thumb over his cheekbone and that's when he feels it. It wasn't sweat from his forehead, he was... crying, that had actually happened.

His first thought is to be embarrassment.

"That's... never happened before." He says, finding it hard to look at her but she doesn't care.

"It's ok." She assures him.

Gabe is overwhelmed by her whole being. In those moments he decides to stop being something he thinks she wants, and allows himself simply be himself. And that is a man, overcome by his realization that he does love this woman, who weeps in her arms.

During the whole affair he had remained strong, dominant, how he thought she might desire him to be. But now the symphony of emotions washes over him like a warm bath that she may desire him no matter what. That someone could love another person so endlessly was impossible. How often did that happen?

Gabe lets her hold him as he shakes and weeps quietly in her arms. He feels his shame leave him and feels her adoration mend him. And he hopes that in every universe, big or small, Terran or Starfleet, whatever it's conception or creation, that they find each other. Because he cannot imagine a world or a life he could lead that would be devoid of Michael Burnham.


	23. XXIII

XXIII

When the distress call reaches _Discovery_ it's a shock to hear the garbled Klingon voice through the bridge comm system. They weren't hailing their homeworld or any Klingon ships nearby, they were specifically asking for a Federation ship to send them aid and help them.

It came from a Klingon mining outpost on the edge of Klingon-Federation space. According to the message they had been attacked by one of the factions who had chosen war over peace, ignoring their new leader L'Rell's words of warning. At the time the message was recorded there were only eight survivors out of twenty individuals. They were left to die without honor, in squalor and destitute.

Despite Michael's personal past with the Klingons, she argued it was their moral obligation to aid anyone in need. The Captain and the crew agreed with her as did Starfleet command.

But something in Gabe's gut told him something wasn't right about this... it was too close to home, literally and figuratively. But it had all the signs of a rebel Klingon house refusing to give in to the inevitable. All of the pieces to the puzzle were there but the picture didn't match the box and it grated on him the closer they came to the planet where these dying Klingons dwelled.

As security chief it was Gabe's job to put together an away team to go down to the planet's surface and survey the area, secure it and give the order to beam down a medical team. Dr. Gayle worked tirelessly to memorize and study Klingon anatomy, drilling her staff relentlessly.

The crew hadn't seen any kind of action in weeks and although the circumstances were not ideal everyone seemed eager to aid in any way they could, to feel useful again.

Gabe recognized the signs immediately. The ship's company had grown accustomed to battle, to playing the hero of the fleet, they had gotten a taste of adventure they were not ready to let go. The signs of a battle tested crew. Their intentions were righteous, but he could not help but feel that the act would be regretted.

The team he assembled was small, five crewmen. If the Klingons did pose a threat the ship was ordered to remain locked on to their lifesigns for emergency transport. He drilled them in the holodeck, keeping them on their toes.

After one such exercise he returned to his quarters tired and weary. Michael sat at his desk going over the data collected about the planet they were heading towards.

Gabe comes up behind her, hands on her shoulders, massaging the stress away. She leans into his warm hands but doesn't take her eyes off the screen before her.

"Does anything about this seem too good to be true?" Michael asks him and he grunts his response.

"Wounded or in perfect health, I never trust Klingons." He says, leaning down to kiss her cheek, lingering as he inhales her sweet scent.

"I wish you would include me on your team," she tells him and he moves away, any chance at a simple evening to relax seems to disappear. "I could be useful."

"Your job is on the ship." He reminds her gently, stripping away his uniform jacket and groaning as his shoulder blades grind.

"As a xenoanthropologist I am well versed in Klingon culture, rites and rituals."

"As you have so elegantly pointed out to me on more than one occasion." He says, making light so as to not start a fight.

They've had this conversation before. In fact as soon as Starfleet gave them the go ahead to go for the mission she requested to join the team that would beam down to the surface first.

Both Gabe and the ship's captain disagreed. She knew why. Because of her pregnancy she was seen as too valuable or vulnerable to lose. It was too dangerous for a woman with child. She detested the out of date way of thinking. Just because she was pregnant didn't mean she was useless. Of course she knew that's not what they were trying to convey, but that's how it felt.

"Please take me seriously, I don't appreciate being patronized." She quips.

Sighing, Gabe drops his boot to the floor and works on the other.

"Michael, it's because I take you seriously that I am telling you, you can't go. This isn't a scientific picnic to an unknown world," he pauses and releases the other boot. "This could also be a trap. We can't risk you."

"Because I'm pregnant and therefore not effective?" She questions and he gapes at her.

"Don't turn this sexist."

"Then why?

"I just told you why. Come on, I don't want to argue." He says, lying backwards on the bed with his feet still on the floor, rubbing his tired face.

"We're _not_ arguing." She says in a defiant tone, as if she were offended he would think of such a thing.

"It feels like it." He grumbles.

"You don't know what it's like," she says and he wishes she would come and lie down with him. It's been a long day, all he wants is to feel her near him. "You've never had to watch me die before."

Then it all makes crystal clear fucking sense. Sitting up on his elbows he furrows his brow. He knows he shouldn't feel jealous in that moment but he does.

"So that's what this is all about," he says lowly and she looks away from him. "It all goes back to _him_ , doesn't it?"

"Don't twist my words." She warns him and he scoffs.

"I'm not twisting anything. You'd rather have me risk you instead of myself because I've never had to lose you before?"

Michael doesn't nod or say anything.

"That's pretty illogical." He continues. "You once told me we shouldn't compare woes. Well here goes nothing: I did lose someone once, and it hurt like fucking hell. I didn't get to tell her goodbye, I didn't get closure. I didn't know the last time I kissed her would be a literal last. So, don't pretend I don't know what it's like to lose, Michael."

She finally looks at him and to his surprise she does come to him. She stands between his parted legs and cups his face and then his anger is gone.

"I'm sorry." Michael says, brushing her fingertips over his hairline. "But you have to understand it feels different," she pauses and he rests his head over her belly as if to listen for something. "I've already lost you once and somehow you were given back to me. You might feel like you need to keep me safe but did you ever consider that maybe I need to keep _you_ safe?"

Sighing deeply into her stomach he lifts his eyes to look at her, like a fucking starlit angel.

"The thought had crossed my mind once or twice," he says quietly. "Look, we can sit here all night comparing notes on who has more to lose but there's something else I'd rather talk about."

Raising an eyebrow she narrows her eyes, suspicious of his intentions. His appetite for her is much like his counterpart's, voracious.

"I'm all ears." She answers.

"You won't be offended if I don't kneel?"

Michael suddenly has a flash of every romantic gesture she's ever seen or received, a moment of perfect clarity. She sees every cliche of proposals from Jane Austen to Charlotte Bronte. Every moment of her romantic life becomes whole, every kiss she's shared with her old Gabriel and the new she feels in a single breath.

"Michael?" He says her name when she doesn't answer. "Shit. Maybe I _should_ kneel."

Michael finally regains her motor functions and shakes her head, her hands suddenly trembling.

"You're asking me on the eve you might not come back to me." It's not a question and for a moment he seriously regrets his decision to ask her this way. He had planned something else but every scenario didn't seem like anything she would like. She wasn't by nature a romantic like him, she was entirely her own entity.

"Well... we can just forget it." He suggests awkwardly.

"You misunderstand me," she says, clearing her throat. "I can't say yes though."

"Forgive me, Michael, but that's not really an answer." He tells her and she smiles when he can't find it in himself to move.

"Ask me when you get back," she says gently and she kisses his forehead. "Ask me then."

"Does that mean that's a yes?" He asks, needing her to clarify because right now he's incredibly confused.

"Come back to me and you'll know." She says, her voice lowering and she straddles his hips.

"You're trying to distract me." He says.

"Judging from your biological reaction it's working." She flirts and he can't help but smile.

"As you said, it's a biological reaction to having a beautiful woman sit on my lap." He says, his hands moving up the back of her shirt, her skin unbearably soft.

"Well, if you're too tired-" she begins to rise when he holds her against him, tight, and she loves the way his arms bulge with their muscle, flexing their power and entrapping her in their cage.

"Now, now, Specialist, don't make me pull rank on you." He teases and she can't help but giggle, girlishly and out of control.

"What is that?" She asks as his lips descend on her neck.

"A biological reaction." He replies, she pushes against his shoulders.

"No. The... _Specialist_ thing." She says and she can't deny how when he said it she felt herself slicken at the implication. It reminds her of a fantasy of when she was on the _Charon_ , when she slept with her Gabriel she pictured them on _Discovery_ having an affair and that he had never been the turncoat he had always been.

"It just slipped out I guess. Why?" The way he's looking at her sets her on fire, she's practically squirming in his lap. Sure, he's not captain anymore but he does still outrank her... she can work with that. If Tilly were here and, thank god she's not, she would be squealing with glee.

Michael had never pictured herself as... kinky. Was this considered a kink of some kind?

"No reason." She says, instead of telling him that imagining him being strict with her, using that particular tone of voice he has when he's in complete control and command makes her tingle.

"Then why are you blushing... _Specialist_?" He says, and Michael knew then her hand had been shown. He was onto her, maybe he didn't know exactly what her aim was but he knew she was hiding something.

"Gabe, it's nothing-" she stops when his hands tighten on her hips just the smallest amount, the pressure compact and isolated to a particular point. But suddenly with the knowledge he might know of something so personal and intimate she hadn't been completely aware of herself made her uncomfortable.

"Please. I... don't know what came over me." She says, the look in her eye makes him release her. She stands, arms around herself and she goes back to her work at his desk, analyzing data. Because that's what she knew, it's what she was good at. Not pretending that some fantasy from what seemed like someone else's life could actually come to fruition. She wasn't that type of woman...

Michael hears him pad over to her, his hands take their place back on her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," he says, leaning down to kiss her temple. "You can tell me what's wrong. I won't judge you."

Michael believes him. She taps a few commands into the computer before replying,

"It's... I thought I knew what kind of woman I could be for Ash, then I discovered another side of myself with _him_ , the other you. And now... it's like I've been these two women for them and I don't know what to be for you."

Gabe lets out a breath and kneels in front of her. For a moment she thinks he's going to propose again, she wonders if that's crossed his mind while he takes her hands in his and kisses them so sweetly.

"I just want you to be yourself," he says with a simple shrug. "If that's someone who enjoys a little... command role play then ok."

Michael lets out a laugh, he's comforting in ways her Gabriel had never been. In ways he probably didn't know but she knew he had wanted to be this man for; the man who knelt before her, reassuring her that her personal taste when it came to sex didn't bother him, the man who rubbed her shoulders even when he had a longer day than she did, the man who had lost more than he ever got in return.

Her Gabriel had been tormented he hadn't been _this_ man for her. But now he was here, with her, holding her, comforting her. Willing to be a father to someone else's child. Michael realizes in this moment how incredibly lucky she is.

"I should've asked sooner," he says, cupping her face and brushing his thumb over her cheekbone. "Then at least I wouldn't have to wait for the answer."

"When you get back I think you'll be pleased." She says and he picks her up into his arms, with her legs over one arm and she doesn't worry he'll drop her.

"Now, _Specialist,_ I think there's a few things we need to go over." He says, the bed getting closer and closer with each passing step.

"What is that, Commander?" She replies in a shaky voice. He lowers her onto her bottom on the bed, stands before her with his hands on his hips.

"Why did you break into my quarters?" He asks and she isn't sure where to go from there. Sure she's imagined it but this was now happening... what did he want her to say?

"I... I was worried." She plays along, still unsure of where this was going.

"Worried about my safety?" He asks and all she can is nod. "Use your words, Specialist. On the bridge you seem to have an endless supply of them."

His tone isn't harsh but it certainly isn't the sweet temperament he had used earlier. It was assertive without being forceful, dominant without being oppressive. Gabe knew how to walk a fine line. Clearing her mind of any anxiety she found her courage; he said he didn't judge her.

Time to put that to the test.

"There are rumors of someone working with the Klingons to destroy the ship from the inside out," she says, feigning meager fear. "What better way than disposing of the man in charge of our safety?"

Gabe begins to slowly pace in front of her, hands still on his hips, as if to point a fucking arrow at his... _worth_.

Michael figured this was just one more way to prolong her torment. She squirmed under his faux discipline, her thighs pressing together as she flushed from head to toe.

"How do I know _you're_ not a Klingon sympathizer?" He finally speaks, looking her directly in the eye but he doesn't cease his pacing.

"You know I wouldn't be." She counters smartly and then he moves in front her, his arms landing on either side of her body, boxing her in with no means to escape his wrath.

"Do I?" He questions, his voice deep and rumbling from his chest.

"You can... search me for weapons, if you like." She suggests and she can see he's trying not to smile because he doesn't want to ruin the fantasy.

"Sounds like something a spy would want me to do, get my guard down." He says and she grits her teeth, she just wants his hands on her already. He's so close but he won't touch her. She just wants him to touch her. Her skin feels naked without the touch of his rough hands on her body.

Michael decides to call his bluff.

"Search me or let me go." She says, the fear in her voice fading a little, but she leaves just an ounce to keep him biting at the bait. He pulls back and she misses the warmth that his proximity affords her.

"Stand up." He orders with a flick of his fingers. She does, but her legs are like jelly. He stands back only a little so that she's still in his trap. "Hold out your arms." She obeys, she stifles her gasp when he finally begins his "search" for a concealed weapon.

"Nothing there." He says when he's finished with her arms. "Turn around." His eyes pierce hers like a lance. Turning slowly he wastes less time in moving his hands down her sides, she hears him kneel behind her, his hands moving up her legs covered only by the thin material of her leggings.

Michael can't help the little moan that escapes her and he freezes.

"Something to hide?" He questions, his hands moving further up legs to move between them. She bites her bottom lip, she hears him rise to his full height again, one hand holding her hip possessively and the other still between her legs, simply cupping her wet mound through her leggings and panties.

"Want to tell me anything, Specialist?" He asks, his voice close to her ear.

"No..."

She feels him grin, his fingers move only a little and she clenches them again.

"You sure about that?" He asks and she nods her head. "You don't want to change your answer?" Again, she only moves her head up and down as an answer. "Lost your voice again, I see," he says and she gasps when he quickly tears her leggings down her hips. "I think I can help you find it again."

His arm comes around her front and he has her locked in his grasp, his hand groping between her legs and she swears her Gabriel has somehow possesed the man behind her. It's his voice, his hands... his everything and nothing and all at once the two men have merged into one body.

Michael feels his hand around her throat and she remembers the last time she was with her Gabriel; secluded in an alcove, precious minutes stolen before his generals revolted and tried taking over the ship. But it wasn't her Gabriel behind her, but somehow, the two men had found a way to become one with her.

She felt like a cosmic conduit, like a portal had opened and she was the harbinger of such a frighteningly beautiful event.

Gabe doesn't apply pressure to her neck, he simply leaves his hand there, his thumb caressing her perfect jawline while his other hand is busy getting her off fast and hard.

"Commander, please," she begs, still trapped in the fantasy of her being a possible Klingon spy and sympathizer and he catching her red handed in his quarters.

"You'll have to do better than that." He says, his thumb speeding up only a little but it's enough to make her begin to slump against him.

"I'm... I'm not a sympathizer, I swear," she pleads. "Please... it's too much." That last part isn't a lie but he doesn't relent, instead his lips assault her neck and she cries out.

"There's that voice." He says darkly, his index finger dips into her opening, her wetness coating his finger. "Come on, Burnham, convince me." He licks at the back of her neck like a lion licking the blood off it's latest kill, she feels raw under his ministrations.

"Oh... _please_." She reaches for his hand between her legs and he stops her, moving the arm around her waist to take her wrist between his fingers.

"You think I'd let you _get off_ that easy?" He sneers, then she feels him using his body to push her further towards the bed, his double entendre making her smile for a moment. Her knees hit the mattress but she won't go down without a fight.

She pushes back against him, resisting, and she finally gives into the feeling of his hardness against her ass.

"Seems like you're a little compromised, Commander." She says, turning her head to look him in the eye.

"Nothin' a little physical stimulus can't fix." He replies and she wants to kiss him, she wants his tongue in her mouth and his saliva on her lips. She wants to taste every inch of his skin, salty from sweat and wallowing in his scent as it engulfs her like a flood.

For a moment Michael was taken out of the fantasy when she realized tomorrow he would be going down to a potentially dangerous planet on a mission where he might not come back. But she can't think about that right now, she can think about that tomorrow. Right now there is only tonight.

Gabe can't take his eyes or his hands off of her. Her little fantasy was turning into his, but he had never really thought of a scenario where they were role playing. But discovering this new side of her, one she had kept hidden and never spoke of or shared with anyone, was rapidly leaving him feeling honored she would divulge this secret to him.

Everyday they shared together he felt himself growing closer and closer to her. He did want to marry her, he wanted to make an honest woman out of her as cliche as it sounded. It had all happened so fast, but he didn't care. For once in his life he wasn't thinking, he was letting go with the knowledge and trust she would catch him.

Knowing she felt as protective of him as he did of her only fueled his yearning for her.

Not breaking "character", he drove her more firmly into the bed, but he rolled her over onto her back, he wants to look at her. She whimpers helplessly when he takes his hand away from her weeping slit. Her eyes and body begging him.

"Have you learned your lesson about breaking into your commanding officer's quarters?" He questions, his leg sliding between her own, the friction from his trousers making her squirm.

"I think I require more censure." She says, that sexy eyebrow raises and it leaves his mouth dry.

Gabe doesn't know what drives him to do it, he's never done it before, not on purpose but he can't help himself and in the moment he's too caught up in the passion to stop himself from tearing her shirt in half. The ripping of the fabric forces a sharp gasp from her and he spreads the ruined shirt apart with his warm hands.

And then he thanks the heavens for bras that have clasps in the front. He doesn't stop to think he's gone too far, she would tell him.

Unclasping her bra he slides both materials from her body, his actions gentling for the briefest of seconds.

Entirely naked she knows she should feel vulnerable under his gaze, but she doesn't. She feels natural and strong, feminine and powerful.

The fantasy comes to an end when he moves inside her, their eyes closing, opening and keeping in time with the other. He's gentler now, he can't continue with the pretense of being her stern and astringent commanding officer. He just wants to be himself now, with himself inside of her and now that's all she asks for.

The reminder he might be hurt or worse by tomorrow dawns on her again, so she holds him closer. He feels her clutching him as if he were a lifejacket and she has been lost at sea. His hand holds the back of her head, her face buried in his shoulder.

"It's ok," he whispers, his hips still moving against her. "I'm gonna come back."

Michael wants to ask, "but what if you don't?" What would she do then? Gabe still feels her warring with herself even if she won't look at him now but he feels wetness at his shoulder, he knows it's not perspiration. Tilting her head back he forces her to look at him.

"Look at me." He says kindly, almost begging her. She does finally. Her eyes are glassy as the tears fall down her red cheeks, he wipes them from her face. "I prom-"

Michael silences him with a chaste kiss, her forehead resting on his chin, her hands lying on his lower back.

"Don't promise," she tells him. "Just come back."


	24. XXIV

XXIV

As far as dangerous away missions went, Gabe had experienced a few. But nothing like being down into what he considered extremely hostile territory. But it was a mission and a rescue mission nonetheless.

Walking into the transporter room, Captain Saru and Michael greeted him and his small team of five including himself. Remaining on professional terms with Michael as far as the crew were concerned, he offered a curt nod and she returns the gesture.

His team is made up of three men and one woman. Lts. Val, Kelly and Nichols were already on the security detail but Ensign Tannis was new to the bunch, having volunteered for the mission. Ensign Tannis was eager to earn his pips, while Val, Kelly and Nichols had already proven themselves.

Gabe had needed another member for the away team and there had been no other volunteers. He privately told the others to keep their eye on him, he might be eager to shoot Klingons or eager to get himself killed; either way, the kid made Gabe antsy.

"Your utility belts have been modified to cut through any interference the planet may have on our transporters." Michael informed the away team, trying not to make too much eye contact with Gabe.

"When you've made contact with the Kingon survivors, report back on their condition and we'll beam down the medical away team to rendezvous with you." Saru adds. "Good luck."

Michael swallows minutely but it's not lost on him. He turns to his team and they walk briskly to the transporter pad.

"Godspeed." Michael says quietly, Saru's head tilts slightly in her direction. Michael refuses to look away even though the last time she saw a Gabriel disappear before her very eyes it had nearly killed her. Gabe smiles out of the corner of his mouth.

"Energize." He orders and they disappear, materializing onto the planet's surface. She bites back her tears and turns and leaves the room, her captain close behind her.

"Not that it's any of my business," he begins as they walk down the corridors. "But... well, frankly as captain it is. Is there something I should know, Burnham?"

Michael shakes head.

"Not at all, Captain." She tells him professionally.

"I hope you know that this crew cares very much for you," he tells her. "We would not have stayed in that other place if we didn't."

Michael nods, pausing and looking to him as a friend before they must return back to captain and subordinate.

"I know," she says kindly. "And I care for them and I'll never be able to repay you for coming for me. But... with _another_ life lost I feel I could not be made whole again."

Saru nods slowly, he understands what she says. It is as he suspected. That Commander Lorca and Michael had never stopped having an intimate relationship. He didn't judge them. The rest of the crew didn't seem to have an inkling. And as long as they remained on the professional line they seemed to toe, he couldn't exactly order them to cease.

Saru rests a large hand on her shoulder, not seeming to worry that other crewmen might see.

"Michael, you need to stop thinking of everything that could go wrong and for once believe that perhaps things will go right." He says and she returns his kindness with a soft smile. She wants to believe in his words. But for too long Michael has been shown that looking on the bright side can only lead to further disappointments.

On the planet's surface, Gabe keeps to his gut and doesn't let it anything seem as it is. He sees the danger behind every rock and piece of rubble; behind whatever remains of the Klingon birds of prey. The eight lifesigns are somewhere in the mine. Their tricorders read that the lifesigns were at least 6 meters into the mine. And they were weak. Lt. Nichols confirms their physical state: dehydrated, injured, malnourished.

"The mine is interfering with the tricorder some, sir," Lt. Nichols says, tapping the device with his hand and sighing when there is no change in it's diagnostic.

"Tannis, Nichols, Kelly, you two stay above. Val and I will grapple down, keep an open frequency to us and _Discovery_." Gabe orders but young Ensign Tannis steps forward, his chest out.

"May I speak freely, sir?" He pipes up, the others share a look to one another and Gabe groans.

"Not really the time, Ensign." He says, handing from his backpack a grappling hook and rope to Val.

"Sir, please, you shouldn't risk it." The Ensign argues and for the briefest moment, Gabe agrees.

He should send the kid down in his place, let him risk his life as he is so willing to do. But that's not who Gabe is. He has a lot to lose, but who knows? Maybe young Tannis' mother is worried sick about her boy, maybe she's knitting him a scarf or doing whatever it was mothers do when their boys are gone to war. Maybe he's got a girl back home or even on the ship he wants to impress... he shakes his head.

 _We've all got girls back home,_ he thinks, Michael slipping into the forefront of his mind before he pushes it down. He needs to remain focused on his mission.

"You stay here with Nichols and Kelly. Keep a sharp eye out. The Klingons might be below but who knows what else lurks here." He says, glancing a look around before returning his eyes to the darkened, red abyss below.

Part of the reason Gabe chose Lt. Val to join him into the mine was because of her personal hobby of rock climbing. He was experienced himself but he was older and it had been years since he scaled the surface of anything.

The two officers begin their descent. Gabe shines a light halfway down.

"Hello?" He calls, knowing his universal translator will convert his words into Klingon. He hears movement and light is returned, but he can't see any faces.

"Starfleet?" A rumbling, throaty voice calls back. Gabe feels a chill...

 _Let them die and suffer..._ he shakes the thought away. They were not his enemy, even if they carried the same blood and spoke the same language.

"Yes," he replies. "Two of us are descending." He exchanges a weary look to Val, her hand has subtly reached for her phaser. He holds a hand out to steady her.

"We're coming down now." He tells them and waits.

"Be quick." Is all that is spoken from the same voice, it sounds like an order. Gabe wishes he could tell if it was a male or female but... honestly sometimes their voices sounded remarkably similar.

Once his feet touches solid ground again he detaches himself from his harness, Val copying him. A horrid odor assaults his senses, he and Val raise their hands over their mouths and nose.

Four males and four females, and copious dead surround them, their bodies put into similar styles of perhaps either morning or makeshift burial. A Klingon approaches Gabe, he wears no armor and instead has a brand on his forearm. The lethal ridges on his forehead are swollen from old bruises.

The others stand further back, but they are threatening even if they are without capable weapons. But they could be armed with other things. Gabe realized suddenly just how outnumbered he and Lt. Val really were and how glad he is that he didn't send Ensign Tannis down in his place.

"Starfleet?" The Klingon speaks. Gabe nods. "More of you?"

"Yes, three more above and more than that in orbit." He replies, both human and Klingon keeping their distance from the other.

"My name is Commander Gabriel Lorca of the starship _Discovery_. We answered your distress call." He says, formally. The Klingon nods slowly, his large eyes moving between Gabe and Lt. Val.

A light cough echoes through the mine, the male Klingon who seems to speak for the survivors turns his head. A child is cradled by it's mother, the Klingon leader goes to them. Gabe frowns and looks to Val and they speak lowly.

"I thought it was only eight lifesigns." He says. Val takes out her tricorder and sighs.

"The child is weak and with the mine's interference it makes sense their lifesign wasn't picked up."

"What is that?" The Klingon asks, his voice coming closer, stopping closer in front of Gabe and Val and pointing at the tricorder.

"A medical tricorder," Val explain carefully. "It tells me if you're healthy or not." She even holds it out for him to look at.

The Klingon looks on, mistrust in his eyes and Gabe attempts to defuse the situation. Healthy or not, eight Klingons could still rip them apart as if they were nothing but paper dolls.

"Look, we're here to help. I gave my name, what's yours?" He asks strongly, knowing the Klingon would only answer to strength instead of kind words. They meant nothing to people like him.

"I am G'Tak," he answers proudly. "A former captain, like yourself."

Gabe hides his surprise.

"So, you've heard of me." He says and G'Tak nods curtly.

"Killer of Klingons." He practically snarls. "And they sent _you_ to rescue us."

"That wasn't me." Gabe says, feeling the wound of resentment for his counterpart reopen.

"Then who was it?" G'Tak asks, not letting Gabe off the hook.

"You Klingons have your own ways to hide imposters," Gabe says, referring to the Klingon L'Rell and her strange house of matriarchs. "Well, let's just say there was an imposter of sorts going about saying he was me."

G'Tak spits on the ground, the other Klingons move slowly forward.

"Poison words from a poisoned little hu-man, petaq," G'Tak says, one of the female Klingons rises. "I would rather watch my family die a thousand deaths-"

Gabe snaps his hand against the Klingon's throat and he stumbles back. The female Klingon draws her obscured weapon but Val has her own phaser fixed on her.

"We can continue with your Klingon melodrama," Gabe says, standing over G'Tak, a foot pressed into his chest, "Or we can get the hell outta here."

Gabe feels the blood rushing in his ears. He's just attacked a fucking Klingon, he just antagonized someone he's supposed to help. He just put his life further in danger when he's supposed to come back to Michael.

"I am not your enemy as you are not mine." Gabe says finally, holding out his hand.

The Klingon lets out a deep laugh, grasping Gabe's wrist and hauling himself to his feet. He smacks Gabe's shoulders as if they were old friends.

"Maj!" G'Tak says. "Come, meet my family, Gabriel Lorca of Starfleet."

G'Tak takes Gabe by the arm and leads him towards the other survivors, Val lowers her weapon and follows.

Gabe suddenly feels the rush of adrenaline from antagonizing the Klingon, his heart is pounding in his chest and he forces his hands from shaking.

 _That could have ended very badly, Gabe,_ he tells himself.

"My sisters, Miera and G'Takia," G'Tak says, just as proud as he was when he said his own name. The female Klingons rise, one still cradling the child to her body. They still appraise him with untrusting eyes.

The former Klingon captain introduces him to the rest of his clan, they nod and stand as if they were meeting a famous general. It was amazing, to him, how they so easily responded to violence and strength.

"My bloodchild," G'Tak says, gesturing lastly to the small, fragile female child asleep in G'Takia's arms.

It isn't _her_ child, it is his. He holds his hand over the child's head but doesn't touch them, his hands bear thick fingernails and they dwarf the sleeping girl's head immensely.

"Nydek." He simply says, his voice as soft as he can make it.

"I have orders to transport down a medical team," Gabe explains, tearing his eyes from the sleeping child. Her breathing is labored, he fears she might be close to death. And the way G'Tak looks at his child Gabe can't help but wonder where her mother is, his wife. Was she scattered among the fallen dead around them?

Gabe thinks of Michael, imagines her in a similar state and it breaks his heart. And it breaks his heart to see such a proud Klingon reduced to rags, unable to even provide suitable food or shelter for his own family.

 _And this is what war makes of both sides. Living in caves, hiding from your death..._

"We carry no disease," Miera says passionately. "We only wish to live."

"And I will see to it you do," Gabe says. "But first you must be looked after. Especially the child."

"Do not pretend to care for the likes of her," G'Takia says, spitting on the ground. "We have seen what the noble Federation is capable of."

G'Tak says nothing, he is neither cowed by the women of his family nor ashamed. Gabe must earn their respect as he has earned G'Tak's.

"With all due respect," Gabe begins in the direction of the two women. "No such good faith that I am bestowing upon you was given to my late crew. But I'll not let the past cloud what must be done today. Will you?"

G'Takia and Miera look to one another and then to their leader. G'Tak slowly nods his head.

"How long before we are off this hell?" G'Takia asks him and he smiles, another battle won.

"The medical team will need at least an hour to see that you're fit for transport. After that, we're gone." He assures them.

Gabe communicates his findings to the rest of the away team and then to Starfleet. He leaves the cavern, the communication above is better than below and besides, he doesn't like the dark so much, and it's cramped and the smell is overpowering.

"A child?" Saru asks over the comms. Gabe nods to himself.

"Interference didn't pick her up. She's in bad shape, Captain. We might need to transport her to sickbay before the others. I don't think she has long." Gabe says, his voice trembling and Michael hears it.

She wants to ask what's wrong but it's inappropriate and unprofessional. He's a seasoned officer, he can hold his own. He doesn't need her to prop him up right now.

"Keep a sharp eye out for anything else," Saru orders. "The medical team is on their way down. Wait for Dr. Gayle's assessment of the child before even daring to separate her from the others."

"Aye, aye, Captain." Gabe says, he closes the face of his communicator and returns to the mine.

Michael and Saru share a look. A new diagnostic appears on Michael's screen.

"Captain, I'm picking up minor tremors from the planet's core." She informs Saru. He swivels in his chair to look at her entirely.

"Does it put the away team and survivors in danger?" He asks.

Michael sighs, frustrated.

"The data is inconclusive. As of now, no." She informs him, and Saru decides not to pull them out. Michael continues to run the same scan again and again, each time it is inconclusive. It sets a terrible feeling in the pit of her gut.

The medical team arrives shortly, slightly awkward. They have dealt with Klingon simulations and studied the anatomy, but these were real live Klingons. Both groups watched each other carefully.

After a time, Dr. Gayle requests to speak to both Gabe and G'Tak.

"The child is in extremely poor health and she's suffering from a concussion." Dr. Gayle explains carefully and the Klingon grunts.

"She is strong. She will fight." He argues like any parent would, Gabe can't help but admire him.

Dr. Gayle isn't so convinced.

"She will have a better chance if I take her to our sickbay now." She says and the Klingon straightens his back, his posture not exactly threatening but Gabe is reminded of a black bear defending their young.

"Where she goes we go!" G'Tak shouts, his voice rising and bouncing off the walls of the mine. Gabe steps in front of Dr. Gayle and the Klingon father.

"G'Tak, we don't _want_ to take her. You will join her soon, I promise." Gabe says and he regrets the words as soon as they leave his mouth. He can't make any promises right now. For all he knows there's a Klingon battle cruiser on it's way back right now to finish the job.

But his words seem to calm G'Tak and the others. His shoulders relax and G'Tak nods.

Dr. Gayle breathes a sigh of relief and goes to Nydek. G'Takia tightens her hold on the child as the female human's arms extend to take her.

"G'Takia," he says firmly. "Let her go."

Gabe has never seen a Klingon weep before, didn't think they even had tear ducts. But there is something horribly defeating in seeing her eyes well up. But she strongly kisses the child's head, whispering something to them before handing her over. Dr. Gayle holds the child close to her.

"I will save her." Dr. Gayle says, a harness and rope are lowered and she ascends to the surface, disappearing back to the ship in a blur of gold light.

G'Tak grasps Gabe's arm, but not for support only as a threat.

"If any harm comes to her-"

"You'll be the first to eat my heart." Gabe says and G'Tak smiles, his sharp uneven teeth brown and yellow and it chills Gabe to a point, but there is something strangely humorous about G'Tak's personality he can't help but... like.

The rest of the medical team examine the Klingons, G'Tak is finished before the others. He's given the green light to travel but he refuses to be transported until his sisters and the others are given the same news.

"You have children?" G'Tak asks Gabe, they rest amongst two boulders and Gabe passes him a canteen of water.

"No," he answers because that's what he's used to, then he shakes his head. "I... I'm about to be a father." His correction sinks home for the first time. He hasn't exactly given into the idea he will be a father, he saw himself as a surrogate of some kind. That with Michael came a child that had his DNA but wasn't made by him. The child came from another man, a man he hated.

And yet it will be his, because Michael chose him. Not because he was second best, but because she loved him. A smile tickles at his mouth. In this hellish cavern, surrounded by the living and the dead, he feels calm.

 _She basically said yes,_ he reminds himself. That thought is keeping him awake and heedful.

"You have woman then?" G'Tak further asks and Gabe nods. "She is strong?"

Gabe chuckles and takes the canteen back.

"Stronger than me." He tells his new Klingon friend.

"Women, they often are. It is why we must pretend so much." G'Tak says and the two men laugh.

And Gabe can't help but imagine a life where this war had never happened, where he and G'Tak met and became friends, sharing stories and learning from one another, watching their children grow. In the end, that's what the Federation was about. Overcoming race, creed and religion to further better themselves.

"My wife," G'Tak begins. "She was taken from me. But she fought strongly until the end. My only hope is that I will see her again. One day, I will meet her in the halls of Stovokor."

Gabe can't help but imagine such a place; a long table filled with the greatest Klingon warriors their world had ever seen. There would be a seat at that table for G'Tak and his wife, sitting side by side for all eternity together. The thought brings a tear to his eye and he hides it.

"Does your kin have a Stovokor?" G'Tak asks.

"We have plenty," he answers slowly. "Heaven, Elysium, Valhalla-"

"What is this Val-Hella?" G'Tak asks, intrigued by the strange word, perhaps because it sounds so similar to his own tongue.

"It's similar to your own afterlife," Gabe explains. "Ancient people of my world, great warriors known as vikings, believed they would only be welcomed into the afterlife after dying a great death. They are ushered through the gates by the Valkyrie, heavenly female warriors on winged beasts."

G'Tak looks like a child listening to a fable, he leans forward, elbows on his knees and nods his giant head.

"It is woman that is there at the beginning of our life, seems only fitting they take us to our next life." G'Tak says, he claps his hand down on Gabe's shoulder so hard it nearly knocks the wind out of the man.

"You have honor, Gabriel son of Lorca," G'Tak says heartily. "I believe you shall see your Val-Hella one day. And may the soul of your woman guide your way."

Gabe can't help but be drawn in by the way the Klingon speaks. It is extremely poetic and intensely dramatic. The Klingon believes every word he says. Gabe has never believed in an afterlife, but he wishes he could believe as profoundly as G'Tak.

G'Tak glances at the bodies of his fallen comrades and family.

"They will not enter the halls of such a place," he says grimly. "They died without honor. One by one. We gave them the burials we could but... it cleves my heart in two that I will not see them."

"But your wife, is she not among them?" Gabe asks carefully. G'Tak sighs, as if in relief.

"She died before we came here. It is the one peace in this life I carry with me."

The mine suddenly shakes with life. No sooner had G'Tak stopped Gabe from falling from the boulder did Lt. Nichols rush to his side on unsteady feet.

"Sir, the mine is becoming unstable, we need to get out of here."

Gabe is on his feet, G'Tak behind him.

"Get the survivors out, I'll go last." Gabe says as the mine rocks again. They begin to make their escape, G'Tak remains with Gabe as his sisters are strapped into harnesses.

"G'Tak, come!" Miera says strongly and he shakes his head.

"I stay with my friend, I will join you again." He tells them and a strange look passes over their faces, one Gabe doesn't entirely understand. The two women are pulled to the surface, the rest of the away team follows slowly one by one.

The mine shakes again and Gabe nearly loses his footing but once again G'Tak keeps him on his feet.

Eventually the remaining survivors and away team members have been hoisted to safety.

"Your turn, son of Lorca." G'Tak says and the man shakes his head.

"You're the mission, G'Tak, get your Klingon ass up there." Gabe orders, turning his back on G'Tak, flipping open his communicator hoping for a signal.

He might not make it out of this one. He opens a secure channel to Michael's own communicator. It's having a hard time going through.

"Come on," he grumbles, changing the frequency.

Michael hears her communicator beep, the bridge is frantic to get the away team to safety, the collapsing mine is expanding and making the surface unstable. Her first instinct goes to Gabe, her hand resting over her belly. She can't excuse herself from the bridge. He knows that. But he wouldn't be contacting her if- no.

She moves to a corner, quickly opening her device.

"Michael. Don't say anything, don't give yourself away," she hears him say and it pains her beyond measure. "It's getting pretty hairy down here. I gotta make this quick. I love you and I... just let me hear you say it, just once. It's just one word because I... I might not hear you say it in person."

Michael holds back her tears, she notices Bryce staring at her but he doesn't give her away, simply nodding his head before returning to his work.

"Yes." She whispers into the communicator's mic. She hears him exhale.

"Gotta go." He says, his throat thick with holding back his own tears and she wants to keep him on the line. But the line is cut off and she closes her device, quickly returning to her station. Her eyes are clear but she knows she can't let him die again.

"I told you to get up there!" Gabe shouts when he turns to see G'Tak remaining behind.

"I will not leave now." The Klingon says and Gabe groans. He doesn't have time for this kind of bullshit. Taking out his phaser he sets it to maximum stun.

"I shall die here with my-" Gabe shoots him square in the chest.

"Hate me later, I don't give a shit," Gabe says strapping the heavy Klingon into the harness. "But you're not gonna die today. You got a fucking kid," Gabe grunts when his shoulder gives a little, he's definitely pulled a muscle or two maneuvering the seven foot tall Klingon. "You got a big family that you needs you."

Gabe signals to the away team by tugging on the thick rope three times.

The Klingon begins to rise and he taps his foot.

Gabe watches the Klingon being risen higher and higher out of reach. He feels the anxiety well up inside him once more as the mine rumbles and shudders beneath his feet. He keeps his balance though.

He thinks of Michael and the baby, he's not going to see her again, he won't be a father. Probably. Definitely. He swallows, his eyes tearing up and because he's alone and doesn't need to be strong for anyone he lets them fall.

 _God damn it, things do come full circle,_ he thinks, finding a wall to lean against, surrounded by dead Klingons. He thinks of his counterpart and how he must have been feeling in his last moments. If he did truly love Michael and he suspected he did if they were anything alike then they were probably feeling the same things.

Both men thinking of her in their final moments of life.

He hated that it was only now that he felt more akin to his counterpart than ever before.

Maybe they'll find a way to transport him out...

 _Yeah, when pigs fly,_ he thinks and he wishes he had a glass of bourbon and Michael beside him. He wishes he was in his bed, back home, not in space or anywhere near Starfleet. He wishes a lot of those things when the floor begins to fall apart, growing closer and closer to him and the bodies of dead Klingons fall deeper into the mine.

But one thing he doesn't do is regret. He doesn't regret a damn thing. He doesn't regret loving someone more than he loved Baylana. He doesn't regret the time in that cell. Because it all lead to her. Somehow the universes, the cosmos, decreed he should be with her.

Their time together, no matter the time or place, was always meant to be short.

"So, this is how it ends." He says aloud.

The floor disappears more, feet from him. He feels his stomach clench. He closes his eyes. He doesn't need to see it, he just needs to picture her and it will be quick.


	25. XXV

XXV

When Gabe opens his eyes he's certainly not in heaven and he's definitely not in hell. Limbo maybe, but... it's so fucking white. But it's not blinding, it's remarkably calm. However he knows he's not alone. As if on command he hears someone clapping slowly and it surrounds him.

"Bravo, Captain, really truly a riveting performance." A condescending voice speaks, it's male but he's still alone in the white void.

"I know what you're thinking," the voice continues and Gabe begins walking through the white blanket space in front of him, but it just keeps going on and on. "Am I dead? Are you God? Did I leave the stove on?"

Gabe is growing more irritated by the voice the longer it continues. He breaks into a jog but it goes nowhere, he doesn't even know how long he's been here. Seconds... minutes?

Despite the endless nothingness he feels claustrophobic, more so than when he had been in that cell.

"You require proof, hmm?" The voice says and he ceases his jogging. He isn't sweating, he isn't tired. "Oh, alright, you humans need _so_ much convincing."

Suddenly there's silver flash and a man stands before him in a uniform he doesn't recognize, a delta similar to his own on his chest.

"Captain Gabriel Lorca of the _USS Buran_ and... _Discovery_? You know, this constant mix up of universes is so hard to keep track of sometimes." The man says, his face is flat and smudged and as obnoxious as his voice.

"Who the hell are you?" Gabe demands, his temper rising.

"I am Q of the Continuum of course." He says as if he were insulted Gabe didn't know who he was.

"Come again?" Gabe asks, he doesn't know who this Q was but he was pissing him off.

"Must I spell it out for you?" Q asks, the question hanging in the air. "Oh, very well, you've twisted my arm." The man who called himself Q wraps an arm around Gabe's shoulders, walking with him.

"You're not dead," Q begins. "You're... scooped up in this tiny little speck of time. The others saw fit to take me away from my happy hunting grounds to teach you lesson or give you a talk."

Gabe frowns and shakes the man's arm off of him.

"Put me back or-"

"Or what? You'll do physical harm? Please, I'm not even really here." Q says with an annoying chuckle.

"Who the hell are you? And what the hell are you wearing?" Gabe demands, his fists clenching.

"I told you- well never mind, your puny brain might explode. And yes my garments appear to not be appropriate." Q snaps his fingers and he's suddenly dressed as Gabe is now.

"What the..."

"Please stop with the obtuse questions." Q says, flippantly. "Now, let's examine the facts."

Q snaps his fingers and suddenly Gabe sees himself, only it's not himself because these are not his memories. He sees Michael, talking with his... yes, it's his counterpart. He's dressed in a long black leather coat, his arms are crossed, Michael sits on a bed shaking her head. They're speaking but he can't hear what they're saying.

"Michael Burnham, Starfleet's first mutineer, fell in love with not only an imposter but a ruthless would-be dictator and your opposite in almost every way," Q narrates, snapping his fingers again Gabe flushes to see the two entangled in a sexual tryst and he looks down.

"Stop it." He warns but Q goes on,

"He knowingly conceived a child with her, but it was _without_ her knowledge. She saw it as a happy accident, one that would be a tether to the man she loses. Little did she know he did it with the intention of entrapping her with him so she wouldn't escape. He knew she would never abandon her child."

Gabe is filled with rage, when his eyes rise to the images again, his counterpart sits hauntedly at his desk shrouded in darkness. He knows that face all too well...

"The loss of her lover shatters her." Q continues.

Gabe swallows when he sees Michael lying in her bunk, after she was rescued, crying herself to sleep. He wants to hold her. She seems so real he feels like he could.

"Then, _ah_ what's this?" Q says with awe. An image of Gabe's own self appears, rescued from his cell and being brought to _Discovery_ and meeting Michael, their first kiss. "True love really does conquer all."

"Why are you showing me this?" Gabe asks Q. The man comes to stand beside him.

"You've made a fatal error, one that others like myself seem fit for you rectify." Q explains.

"And what's that?" Gabe asks him.

"You put yourself in danger. You risked everything and you're about to lose." Q says, as if to shame a child.

"People were in danger." Gabe argues.

" _Klingons_ , your mortal enemy!" Q says showingly. The Starfleet officer shakes his head, moving away from the other man. If he was a man.

"It is my duty as an officer-"

"Duty, honor, the American way, blah-blah-blah trust me I've heard all this before. Or I will... or I have?"

Gabe makes a face and Q groans, wrapping his arm once more around Gabe's shoulders, resuming their walk.

"It's a simple choice, Captain." Q explains, still calling him by his former rank. "Leave the Klingons to die and save yourself. Avoid the mission at all costs, persuade the Kelpian and Starfleet command it's too dangerous. You're chief of security, you can do that."

Gabe shakes his head.

"I can't," Gabe says but the idea is tantalizing. "They would die. There's a child-"

"The spawn of the enemy!" Q argues. "They killed your crew, they slaughtered them like sheep. They mutilated and raped the parents of the woman you love."

"No." Gabe says gritting his teeth.

"Then you die, leaving Michael again broken hearted and her child fatherless." Q says, rather coldly.

"Why are you doing this?" Gabe says, tearing himself away from Q once more.

"It's a simple choice, Captain," Q says rather obviously. "Save the Klingons or die trying."

"That's it? _Discovery_ could find a way." He says and Q rolls his bulging eyes.

"Oh, the naivete of your race is so obnoxious." Q groans.

"She could find a way."

Q smiles broadly and crosses his arms over his chest and leans to one side as if supported by a wall. But nothing is there, just the white void.

"You believe in her ability that much?" Q questions and Gabe nods without thinking about it.

"Destiny saw fit to bring us together. Even if I die, I'll die knowing I did something good. Seeing beyond the Klingons as my enemy and seeing them as my allies."

Q stares at him with a queer smile on his puffy lips.

"Ah, I've just been informed of something interesting. Oh, oh this _is_ good..." Q seems to be speaking to himself, giggling like a child as if someone were whispering a secret in his ear.

With another snap of fingers more images appear but again they're not Gabe's memories. Michael dressed in a blue gown with a golden headdress, himself with only one eye the other socket covered with an eyepatch gazing lovingly at her... then she's a child in a wood and he's a preteen teaching her to hunt.

Then she's dying in his arms. A child wails in the distance...

"What is this?" Gabe asks finally looking to Q who stands behind him.

"These are the collective memories of all the universes in which you fall in love with Michael Burnham," Q explains, but it's not possible, maybe he's right and his head will explode. "In every one you two have some kind of connection. It is reciprocated in some, laughed at in others, regretted, rejected. So on and so forth. You're quite important to one another no matter your journey."

Gabe inhales a shaking breath, his hand reaching out as if to lift the memories into his hand, to cup them like holy water.

"Do you really wish to deprive yourself of a love that transcends so many boundaries?" Q leaves the question floating in the white void around them. "With a snap of my fingers you could be with her."

"And what happens if I snap your neck?" Gabe asks threateningly, this Q was toeing a very, very thin line with him. But Gabe had no time to wonder how the man was capable of performing such things. Perhaps it was a projection of some kind, or perhaps he really was dead and this was all happening in milliseconds.

"Come now, Captain, such threats are beneath you." Q says pompously, as if he knew him personally.

Gabe wants to give in to Q's offer, if it really is possible. He could be with her. The proof was in front of him that he was always meant to find her. But whether this was real or not he's not that kind of man.

Letting his arm fall to his side he sighs.

"Some things aren't always meant to be." Gabe says sadly.

"What is wrong with you? I'm giving you a chance at your great love!" Q says his voice rising in anger.

"If what you're showing me is real then we'll find each other again." Gabe says decidedly.

"You'll die." Q remind hims. Gabe shrugs.

"But others will live." He says, finally.

Q blusters, he's not red in the face but his fury is obvious.

"I'm _trying_ to tell him!" Q exclaims to the void. "He won't listen!"

"Who are you talking to?" Gabe asks.

"Oh do shut up!" And this time Gabe isn't sure if Q means himself or the invisible voices he can't hear.

"I could force you to be with her." Q says, a look of madness in his eye. Then it occurs to Gabe.

"Why do you want me to return to her?" He asks, moving in on Q who backs away suddenly as if he is frightened. Maybe Gabe can hurt him...

"No reason." Q rebuffs with a scoff. "You're nothing to us."

"You're working really hard to convince me to let others die in my place to be with her," Gabe says, mostly to himself, thinking out loud. "There's a reason."

"It's... personal." Q says, rather thinly.

"You just showed me the memories of a dead man and people from other universes. Try again." Gabe says, and this time it's an order and he continues to advance on Q.

"You can't hurt me you know." Q says, smugly and again his defense and words seem hollow.

"Then why do you look so nervous?" Gabe counters and Q groans, stomping his foot like a child.

"I have encountered many humans and none have been as mad in the eye as you." Q grumbles. "You can't hurt me. But... you do look like you could."

Gabe somehow feels like he should be flattered. But flattery isn't getting him the answers he wants.

"Why is it so important I live?" Gabe demands again and Q sighs loudly.

"The child will need you in their life." Q finally relents and when Gabe ceases his advance he breathes a sigh of relief.

"They'll have Michael." He argues but Q shakes his head.

"It won't be enough. The child is important, is tied to so many people and things... the central nervous system for years to come." Q says, his voice quiet.

"Why me?" Gabe asks and Q rolls his eyes.

"You influence them, guide them, mentor them. Whatever the reason the future of the human race depends upon you being there to raise them." Q explains, crossing his arms over his chest as if he were accepting a defeat.

"Why keep that from me?" Gabe asks.

"Because you might muck it up if you knew." He mutters. "None of this would even be happening if that other you hadn't crossed over."

It's then that Gabe realizes he still would've met Michael regardless of whether or not she ever met his counterpart. Somehow the universe corrected an error of the other and rethought the problem.

Thinking, he tries to put together a solution: if he dies, then the future is a lesser place because he's not there to raise his child, or so Q says. If he returns and another takes his place he couldn't live with himself but he will be there for his child. If he sacrifices the Klingons and persuades Saru and Starfleet command the mission is too dangerous-

"No." Gabe says, shaking his head. He wants to say yes, he aches to. He wants one more minute with Michael. He wants to hear her say "yes" again. But he can't. "I won't let others die."

Q shakes his head, as if in disapproval.

"Then you leave me no choice but to sentence you to die, Gabriel Lorca." Q says, his face grim.

Gabe nods, ready to meet his death.

When... Q starts laughing. Hysterical, maniacal laughter. He's never seen an evil genius before, but he has a pretty good idea he's looking at one now.

When he's gotten over himself, Q wipes his eyes.

"Oh, your face," he says, with the end of his chuckle carrying over. "Oh, please. You think you're that important? I was just bored."

Gabe throws his fist at Q's face but stumbles when he simply hits air.

"You really should get that temper under control, Gabe," Q says, suddenly behind him and Gabe whips around. "Oh, I'll send you back to your maiden fair."

Q approaches him and slaps his hands on his shoulders.

"Cheer up, you're going home." Q says, his smile like that of a friend but Gabe hopes he never sees this being again.

Q doesn't snap his fingers like he expects, he begins to simply walk away, fading into the void.

"Wait," Gabe calls. "This was... what? A test? Was any of that even real?"

Q thinks, as if he's not sure he wants to tell him or not, like he has a secret.

"Oh, there was a point and yes this was a test," Q says arrogantly. "Someone mentioned your name recently. Had to meet the man myself."

"I don't understand." Gabe says.

"You won't, sadly. But your descendants will. Bon voyage, Gabe, and give my love to Michael."

The last thing Gabe hears is the snapping of fingers, the next thing he sees is blinding white light and quicker than he thought was possible his eyes are coming into focus and there are familiar faces that surround him. He jerks upright, breathing as if he hadn't in years.

He feels hands pressing him into what he realizes must be a bed. He's in sickbay he realizes.

"Commander, you need to relax," Dr. Gayle says, injecting his neck with a hypospray. "You gave us quite a scare. I've been shocking your heart for two minutes straight."

"Two..." he says, wondering if it had all been a dream. But what purpose could a dream like that have served? Q said it was a test. What test? "Mi..." He's too weak and he's actually grateful he can't finish her name. Dr. Gayle frowns and takes his hand.

"Your what, sir?" She asks and he almost sighs in relief.

 _Good save, Gabe,_ he thinks to himself.

"Away team, safe?" He grits out, his throat dry and his body aches. Dr. Gayle nods her head. "Survivors?"

Dr. Gayle smiles, she leans over him and presses a button on his bed that raises him upright. Around him are the nine Klingon survivors including the child who is sitting as upright as himself.

Nydek, she's smiling, G'Tak over her and speaking in Klingon.

He did it, they did it. And somehow they got him out.

"How... how did-"

"Specialist Burnham, she had been tracking your signal waiting for the right moment and frequency to pull you out. Guardian Angel, that one." Dr. Gayle says, she releases his hand and promises to return but she wants to see to the other patients, leaving him in the care of a nurse.

Gabe wishes she would come to him, even if it's formal. But he knows she had her duties on the bridge. If she asks to be excused to see he's in good health from the bridge Captain Saru will most definitely ask her why or tell her to leave it to Dr. Gayle.

It's alright though, he'll imagine her hand his until he can grasp it- but then he doesn't have to, because she's walking in. Her back straight, her target is him and her eyes never leave his as she makes her approach. He can see how she's holding herself back from running to him.

Michael stands over him, her back to the others, she lets her eyes water, finally giving in to her emotions. Her fingers graze his and he wants to grasp her hand, but there are still too many people.

"I am pleased to see you are well, Commander." She says, her voice is tight.

"Thank you." He says, and she nods.

Then her voice drops,

"I couldn't let you..."

"I know." He tells her, his thumb barely touches her index finger and the jolt they both feel is clear as day, it's also a taunt that they cannot touch further.

" _Yes_." She says and to anyone else in sickbay the word would have meant nothing, out of sync with the rest of the chaos that was going on.

But to him, it was like coming home.


	26. XXVI

XXVI

For the next few days Gabe recouporates in his quarters and remains off duty. He would take a walk or a stroll or whatever else he was allowed to do as long as it wasn't working. He wants to return to work but Dr. Gayle insists he take at least three days to rest. He hates resting.

He's a man of action, he must do _something_.

And when he sleeps, the dream or wherever he had gone to before he almost died, lingers with him like a rash. He keeps telling himself it wasn't real. There was no possible way a single being or entity could have that much power literally at their fingertips. Gabe didn't think he really met God. But he did meet someone, even if he didn't want to believe it.

The creature, Q, told him it was all a test, that he had heard of him and wanted to meet him. Why? What purpose could it have served someone who was already, as it seemed, essentially all powerful?

When it's finally time to see Michael alone again _Discovery_ is in safe waters. The homefront isn't too far away now. She plans to come to his quarters and he's nervous. He chalks it up to the fact that it was his near death experience, that what he told Q was right. That nearly dying a second time doesn't feel like the first.

Because this time he had more to lose; it wasn't a crew or a ship. It was her. And he hates himself for not measuring the weight of the crew he lost with the same care and devotion he did with potentially losing Michael.

In that cell in... _elsewhere_ , he hadn't mourned his crew or resented himself for having not done enough because at the time he hadn't known their fate. After being rescued he processed it and realized that it was entirely out of his hands, but he still felt guilty that he lived while they died. And he still didn't entirely know why... perhaps, again, that was the universe intervening.

When Michael comes to his quarters she embraces him quickly, her face already wet with tears of relief that he still breathes for her.

"I told you I'd come back." He says, rubbing a healing hand over her back.

Michael leans away slightly, gripping his face in her hands tightly.

"Don't _ever_ do something like that again." She warns him, and the look in her eye could have turned Medusa to stone. He nods and she kisses him, her arms around his neck and he returns it. Her hands seek to undress him but he stops her.

"Wait," he whispers against her mouth. "There's something I want to tell you."

She wavers on her feet, intoxicated by being so near to him when it had felt like years since she last seen him. He sits them on the bed, holding her hand.

"When I was in that mine something happened to me," he begins, knowing Michael was the only person he could reveal his experience to. "I went somewhere. I thought I was dead but someone else was there too. He said I wasn't dead. He showed me things, Michael, that... even when I tell myself it was all just my brain trying to cope with the fact that I was indeed dying, I know it was all true."

Michael listens as he tells her of the being named Q. Of the images he showed him. He was able to prove it was real when he told her of her first night on the _Charon_. How he had seen his counterpart and herself interact. That's when it became real to Michael and to Gabe even more when she confirmed that wasn't an illusion but real.

"Why would this Q test you?" Michael asks, when his story is done.

Gabe shrugs.

"I don't know. I get the impression this being gets off on toying with people less powerful than them. But it was extremely convincing. And why save me of all people?" He says, looking off into nothing.

"Whatever the reason," Michael says, bringing his attention back to her. "I can't help but thank him for it."

Gabe cups her chin and he gazes at her lovingly. It was still funny to him, they still hadn't known each other that long. None of this made even the least bit of sense. And yet it did all at once. Nothing had ever felt more true to him than being with her.

"There's something else," he says and sighs as if it's hard for him to articulate. "When I thought I was about to die I... I think I knew how _he_ felt."

He feels Michael's hand tighten in his own.

"I know what I was thinking of in those harrowing moments," he says gently. "All I wanted was you. I had no fear, no regret, no shame. None of that mattered. I just wanted to be with you. I know I'm not the same man he was, but we both love and loved you beyond what is definable. It's funny, it took me nearly dying to understand him."

Michael feels relief as he speaks, she knew the two men would have never seen eye to eye in life. And hearing that Gabe somehow found something relatable in his counterpart almost gave her a strange kind of validation. She was sure he didn't judge her for loving, what everyone would consider, a bad man. But his heart wasn't entirely black. There had been great love in him, even if his execution of it wasn't entirely moral.

The strange beauty of it all was that neither men had ever wanted _her_ to change. They had both felt inferior that they may not be able to change for her. But both men, despite the stark differences that lay between them, had loved this Michael Burnham regardless of whether or not they should or shouldn't.

And she had loved both men: one she had wished to help better, to show him that he could be more than the sum of his parts, that he was capable of good and mercy. And the other she yearned to heal, to help see beyond what had been done to him. Michael had never been resentful towards Gabe for the anger and bitterness he held towards his counterpart. It was, in her eyes, a justifiable rage.

"I want to marry you." Michael says, a smile playing her lips. He chuckles.

"You kind of already said you would." He reminds her, running his hands up the length her legs; not to seduce her but simply because he wanted to keep reminding himself that she was here and he was on the ship and the ground wasn't disappearing beneath his feet.

"No. Right now." At that his brow raises considerably.

"Michael-"

"I can't wait. I know none of this sounds like me but... to hell with it." She's smiling like he's never seen before, her eyes are glassy but she's not crying yet, she's never felt more sure of herself.

She was right, it didn't sound like her. Even during the short time he had known her Gabe would have never described Michael as spontaneous. She was a woman with plans A,B all the way through to Z.

And, damn, he liked this side of her.

Holding the back of her thighs in his hands, he smiles.

"Alright, Miss. Burnham, you've twisted my arm." He tells her and he knows this is all completely mad. But he won't regret it. He's seen first hand, if his dream were real, that this isn't a mistake. That he's never seen something so blatantly written in the stars before. He knows he's not crazy and neither is she. The universe just had the strangest timing and a queer sense of humor.

"The only person on the ship who could marry us is the Captain. We'd have to come clean." He says, remembering he had told the captain he broke off his relationship with Michael.

Clearing her throat a little awkwardly she answers,

"Not exactly clean." Gabe frowns.

And Saru's reaction is honestly what she had been anticipating.

"Are you two insane?" The Kelpian asks, rising from behind his desk as if in haste.

Michael and Gabe stand before him, he reaches out automatically to take her hand.

"Captain, as you are aware I am not prone to acts of pleading," Gabe begins. "But... please." His voice softens on the last word. Saru tilts his head, almost in sympathy.

"Commander Lorca," Saru says coming around the side of his desk. "I've already withheld your personal relationship with Specialist Burnham from Starfleet command once before, I did what you asked of me and hid her pregnancy as well-"

"You did what?" Michael turns, looking at him, not releasing his hand.

"I... I'm sorry." Is his only defense. But Michael isn't angry. On the contrary. He and Saru both took a risk.

"If the captain marries us there's no reason to keep up with the lie... Well, except that you're not as far along as they think." Gabe says and Saru claps his hands together to get their attention.

"Excuse me, I still have a say in this." Saru says, groaning and tugging on his uniform jacket.

Michael and Gabe wait. Even if Saru said no Michael wouldn't care, she would still call him her husband. He was everything the moniker defined to her; he protected her, loved her, was devoted to her and in her eyes was her equal. Somehow this Gabe was becoming a queer hybrid of himself and elements she had first become attracted to in her Gabriel.

"Can I ask something?" Michael asks Saru, her captain and her friend. He nods. "Why would you say no?"

Saru sighs slowly and nods.

"Honestly, I cannot think of a reason to say no." Saru admits. "Very well. When shall this elopement take place?"

Michael is glowing in Gabe's eyes when the Kelpian says yes.

"Right now." She tells him, she tugs Gabe closer and he willingly puts an arm around her.

"Do you desire to have witnesses?" Saru asks and Gabe thinks she'll say no but instead she informs them both that there are two people who should be there.

And that's how Tilly and Stamets were called away for an important matter that was to take place in the captain's ready room. It was all very hush-hush.

When Tilly and Stamets arrive they're not concerned with why Michael or Gabe are there. Until they see them holding hands. A little convincing was required when it came to the choice of witnesses. Tilly's concern was that Michael was on the rebound, which Gabe took offense to but he kept it to himself.

Stamets was only concerned that Michael might be jumping into something too soon. He cited his own experience being married, "no bed of roses", was how he described it. Until he saw how much the two people in front of him loved each other, Paul knew that look. When he agreed Tilly soon followed.

Saru found in the Starfleet database the curriculum when a captain performs a wedding. He made it shorter and added some of his own Kelpian flare to it.

Michael wouldn't have had it any other way. There was no dress, no ring, no flowers or even her parents to take part in the celebration. But this was how they were, it how was they did things. It was simple and uncomplicated. Quite the opposite of their whole journey to find each other.

For Gabe, his heart was pounding the whole time. The way it did before he had to speak publicly or before a fight or every time he's about to kiss Michael. He doesn't care about big or small weddings. He does wish he had picked out a ring or something to give her as a gift.

When it does come time for a ring to be presented he feels awkward, Cadet Tilly eyeing him closely.

"We don't need one." Michael cuts in and she smiles softly at him.

Saru moves on and eventually they kiss and their elopement is complete. They return to his quarters and he replicates her the Vulcan soup she loves so much. Afterward, he helps her change into her pajamas. He showers and returns to the bed, she had forced herself to stay awake for him.

Gabe lies down beside her under the covers, spoons her and breathes in her scent.

"We didn't decide," he mentions. "Are you Mrs. Lorca or am I Mr. Burnham?" He feels her laugh, sleepily.

"I'll be Mrs. Lorca if you'll be Mr. Burnham, just to us though." She says, snuggling into the warmth of his body, she feels him reacting in a natural way.

"I didn't know being married to you could make so horny." He jokes, kissing the side of her neck.

"Do you think you'll love me forever?" She asks him, her voice low and she turns in his arms to look at him.

"Forever." He promises.

"It's a long time." She tells him as if he didn't know. He shrugs.

" _Forever_." He simply repeats.


	27. XXVII

XXVII

"Want to take in the sights?" Gabe asks when he sets their bags down in their hotel room. Michael stands on the balcony, the view of the Opal Sea was beautiful and perfect. "I hear the University of Betazed has some fascinating points of interest." He continues.

Michael smiles as the warmth of the Betazed sun washes over her. Their real wedding had been on Vulcan, a year and six months after the war, it's also where she recuperated after giving birth.

Their elopement had been enough for her, but she eventually relented that perhaps making it legally official wouldn't be such a terrible idea. And not having Amanda and Sarek there had been a guilt trip she would not soon forget. More, surprisingly, on Sarek's part than Amanda's.

Sadly, Spock had been too busy with his duties under Captain Pike on the _Enterprise_ to get away, but he sent his best wishes in the only Vulcan way he knew how.

 _Respected Sister,_

 _It does please me to hear of not only your union to Commander Lorca but also to the birth of your first child. I believe, with your intellect and nature, they will be an upstanding member of society. With that, I must leave you._

 _Live long and prosper,_

 _Spock._

Coming from Spock, it was the most beautiful letter she had ever received from him.

At first Michael couldn't imagine leaving Roman, he was too young for her to leave him so soon.

But Tilly insisted that she and Gabe deserved a break and time alone together since becoming married and becoming new parents. Roman had weighed eight pounds ten ounces, with dark fair skin and blue eyes. He was perfect, in every way. Gabe cried when he held him for the first time, repeating again and again, almost to himself, " _my son, my son_ ".

For Michael is had been beautiful and bittersweet. She never would never admit it out loud, but the night Roman was born and all was quiet and silent and she was alone and Gabe was at home getting the apartment ready, she wept. Mourning, for the last time, her dead lover.

She begged him for his forgiveness, she begged him not to hate her in whatever afterlife had found him. She felt pain in her chest and in her stomach. She was happy, but she hated herself for her happiness.

" _I'll never forget you_ ," she said to nothing, a void swallowing her words. " _He's here, that means you're here too. I promise, he will be everything you could be and more_."

After that night, Michael ceased her silent mourning of Gabriel. He was gone, lost to the space of his own universe, ashes to dust and dust to make itself of something new. He had loved her enough to let her go, even after knowing she was pregnant. He loved her enough to save her life over his own. Sacrificing whatever life they could've had together for the sake of the life she could build without him.

In Gabe, she hadn't found a replacement, but someone to ease her pain. But they had found in one another a way to cope and heal with their trauma together. And through that special and perfect meeting of the minds they had found love when surely they should not have. A bond that stretched beyond the bounds of all that seemed possible.

The universe believed since, who knows how long, that these two people weren't always meant to find each other. Michael had stopped trying to understand the cosmic tricksters, she had simply accepted that their way was often the only way.

"I think the bed needs some exploring," Michael says and she knows for a moment Gabe was slow on the uptake.

"The-" he stops himself and she doesn't need to look at him to know it's sunk in. "Yes. Actually, I might need some help with that."

Michael turns and leans back against the railing of the balcony. Gabe plops down on the edge of the bed, patting the empty space next to him.

"How's your away mission?" She asks, humor in her light voice.

"I think I need a specialist." He says, his hands coming to rest on his knees.

Michael slowly approaches him, touches the bed.

"Nothing wrong here, Commander." She says, she yelps when his hands suddenly grab her by the waist and pulls her down to the bed, the two wrestling for dominance.

"Yield, Specialist." Gabe says, practically growls it, pinning her to the bed.

"I yield." She feigns shame and he wastes no time in kissing her soundly on the lips. He releases her wrists, her arms moving around his neck.

"No baby crying in the middle of the night," he whispers against her neck. "No burpings, diapers or vomit."

"I never thought any of that could sound like dirty talk." She giggles and he pulls the front of her dress down, kissing around the swell of her breast. She hisses as his thumb and forefinger pinch her nipple lightly.

"No more changing our clothes eight times a day," he breath hits her chest and her nipple stiffens between his fingers and she cries out as his mouth descends, attacking her chest with his hot mouth. She grips the back of his neck, holding him there, worshipping her.

Michael won't deny it's a relief to know he still finds her breasts as mouth watering as he always did, despite having an infant attached to them for so long. Actually, it had been the opposite. Gabe had found her incredibly arousing throughout her pregnancy, every curve or swell he massaged and vowed was beautiful. He doted on her endlessly.

Gabe moves her legs apart, she cradles him there but he moves down to her waist quickly, shoving the material of her dress out of the way. A nuisance. He would have her totally naked their whole honeymoon if he has his way.

Fuck, he wants her. He'll make it last longer later, they have a whole week. But right now he can't wait. He licks at her slit eagerly, relishing in how she tastes on his tongue after so long without it.

After Roman was born they were able to have sex only a few times. Michael had felt insecure about her body despite him telling her she had never been more beautiful to him.

He hadn't tasted her, _really_ tasted her, in months. It made him blisteringly hard to feel her wetness coat his tongue, teasing her clit and thrusting a finger inside her, she quakes under him. He feels her hand at his shoulder, nails digging through fabric and flesh. Moans drifting past her lips without a care in the world.

"I missed your mouth," she admits in a breathy gasp. "I miss... yes, don't stop."

Gabe sits up, thrusting a second finger inside her, his movements quick and precise. She presses a hand to his upper thigh dangerously close to the outline of his erection. She teases him by rotating her thumb in small circles, each circle growing broader in range moving closer and closer to the head of cock.

In that moment, she gave new meaning to the phrase "cock-tease".

When the teasing becomes to much he grasps her wrist in his free hand.

"Don't make me stop." He warns and she clenches her fist, closed. "Or, you can finish the job."

Raising an eyebrow he releases her hand and she accepts his challenge. He slows his movements until he stops altogether and she whimpers in agony.

"Give and take, love." He says to her and she wastes no time in unbuckling his trousers, shoving them down his hips and yanking his body over hers.

"Now is not the time for games, Commander." Michael warns, grasping his ass until she feels his tip gliding across her opening.

For a brief moment she fears she'll hear Roman crying and she'll wake from her perfect dream; it's happened before. Instead, she feels Gabe's lips on her earlobe and she knows it's real. She's always known what was real with him.

"I think it's the perfect time, Specialist." He replies coyly. But he doesn't seem to take his own words seriously and before Michael knows it he's already half inside of her, both groaning at finally becoming one after so long.

It's not quietly in the dead of night for fear they'll wake the baby or helping each other get off while they have a moment alone while visiting her parents on Vulcan with the knowledge they couldn't actually have sex. It's not sexy messages sent back and forth without it culminating in coitious.

No, this union is real and dripping with a need to satisfy every inch they had been carrying for months.

It's real, it's quick and dirty and the feel of the hot Betazed sun is almost too much. The room is hot, boiling and made humid with their heedy sex. Their clothes are sticking to them and Michael is overcome by how raw and desperate it is.

"Harder," she begs and he crouches over her, raising her hips a little more, her dress chafing her ass but she doesn't care. She feels his back perspiring through his shirt. "Please."

God, he smells amazing.

Gabe doesn't reply, he simply sets a rougher pace, pounding the spot inside of her. A crazed thought passes over him because it's why they're here in this little resort on another world. He wants to see her pregnant again, he wants a big family with her and all the sleepless nights that would come along with it. He wants fifteen little Romans running around causing mayhem and chaos. He's not too old, they could still have time.

But that's conversation for another time. Right now, all Gabe can focus on is her tight cunt gripping and pulling deeper and further inside of her.

Keeping her hips from meeting his own thrusts, he holds her still as he pumps relentlessly inside her.

"Yes, _yess_." Michael whimpers, her hand cupping the side of his neck and kissing the clothed part of his chest.

Over his shoulder, Michael can see the sun beginning to set over the sea. The water in the distance dances with crystal shapes and her eyes are going in and out of focus.

The heat coupled with their raw love making is knocking the wind out of her.

"Fuck, Michael," he groans hard into her neck, his lips kissing every inch he can reach. God, she terrifies him in these moments. He has her, she's his as much as he is hers. But he couldn't deny that it amazed him two different versions of himself were lucky enough to be loved by her.

That's something Gabe had vowed he would never do, he would never take her love for granted.

If he had learned anything from his counterpart, it was that. She had loved two Gabriel Lorcas despite the odds against it. His counterpart had loved two Michael Burnhams, perhaps in the end one more than the other.

But in these moments of perfect bliss, from the moment he first set eyes on her, to the moment she released a final gasp and their child was brought safely into the world, to this moment right now... she frightened him. Had his counterpart been as afraid of her? Had she been able to disarm him with a single look?

The answer, to him, was a definable "yes". Gabe knew then he too would've crossed time, space and reality to find her. He would lie, cheat and steal to be with her again. He understood his counterpart better than he had ever hoped to. He had fought it, rebelled against it. Until it was too much a fact that they were more alike than he had realized to deny it any longer.

Gabe could be both men for her; the protector and the healer. The husband and the lover. The father and the caretaker. She could be everything to him: wife, mother, friend, lover, healer, protector, paramour, his ladylove.

Michael leans up to kiss him chastely, her upper lip catching between his parted ones, the saliva leaving a faint near invisible trail between them. He gasps, the single adoring gesture sends him nearly over the edge and into his blissful eclipse.

"Don't stop." She encourages and he doesn't, he continues on, battling and thrusting inside of her until her head tilts back and she's cumming around him with force and he finally gives in.

Gabe feels base, hot and coarse. On shaking hands and arms he hovers over her, until he cannot anymore and rests his head on her stomach, kissing the bare skin lazily.

"And to think," he whispers tiredly. "I have you like this for a whole week."

He hears Michael chuckles and she makes him look at her, her thumbs wiping sweat from his temples.

"Oh no, remember," she says. " _Forever_."

Forever... finite, bonded and limitless. Because Gabe knows, time and death matter not to them. He'll find her again and again and again. She'll love him over and over until the universe finally breaks. Until the stars cease their luminous essence. Until all life ends and fades.

Life was a circle of possibilities. And both she and he knew, their circle would continue on in this life or the next. A ceaseless pattern, an equation constantly rewriting itself anew.

Maybe that Q being was right. Maybe true love did conquer all.

Or maybe the universe just liked happy endings.

Whatever it was, he had found peace. They had healed together. Whatever the future brought, it was child's play compared to everything else they had survived together.

For Michael, things had come full circle again.

Gabe sleeps, the warm night air of Betazed cools the room. She sits nude on the balcony, uncaring and unashamed. They're miles from anyone. She looks up at the stars, she hears his voice...

" _No matter how deep in space you are, always feel like you can see home..."_

Michael smiles, she has no memento of him. Nothing... only her son, who is sleeping soundly under the watchful and diligent care of his godmother, Sylvia Tilly.

But it doesn't matter. She doesn't need material things to remember him. And she always would. She's loved him and mourned him. She simply blows a kiss to the stars and feels him in her heart.

"I think we found a home, my love," she whispers, silently, as to not disturb her sleeping husband or even the smallest insect. "You'll _always_ be with me. I promise. You'll be proud, wherever you are, of him. He'll be strong and wise. He'll be everything we wanted to achieve. Goodnight, my love."

Michael gets into bed with Gabe, his arm instinctually moving around her. She doesn't have the desire to pretend it's her dead lover holding her in his arms. She doesn't pretend she's on the _Charon_. She doesn't pretend he never died. Because he did, she lost him. But somehow, she found him again.

Michael doesn't need to pretend. The universe taught her that she was allowed to love another. She was allowed to be the woman she wanted to be, not what others thought she should be. She could be a wife, mother and officer. She could set the standard and she could break the mold.

Inhaling Gabe's scent, she closes her eyes.

She's on Betazed, in the arms of her beloved husband, she's drifting off to sleep. Tomorrow they'll enjoy a day of sightseeing and be tourists, in the night they'll entangle themselves with one another. And in a week, she'll hold her son again.

To Michael, that simple thought alone, has made her whole journey worthwhile.

The end.

 _Notes about the author, if you're interested!_

I am twenty seven years old, fur baby mother. Avid reader of smut. Erotica extrordinair? I don't know if I'm at that point yet. I love writing smut with a plot, angst and high drama. I've been a fan of Star Trek since I can remember. My earliest Star Trek memory is of the TOS episode 'Metamorphosis'. I want to take this time to thank each and every one of you guys who has left a review, your encouraging words have meant the world to me on this journey. I know none of us _USS Archangel_ shippers were super thrilled with how season one ended, but hey, Prime!Lorca is out there in _Elsewhere_ so we have that to tantalize us with. Again, so many thanks to everyone who has reviewed and read this. Check out _The Adoration of Michael Burnham_ on by AGDoren, it's so worth your time!

Stay tuned for more, because I have many ideas. One of which that will be yet ANOTHER AU, super dark and moving into the gothic area of things because I simply cannot help myself. Thank you again, and I hope you enjoyed it!


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